


The one with the crush

by Bubble07



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Crush!Clarke, Cute, F/F, Fluff, Smitten!Lexa, Will be pretty short, there will be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-11 10:51:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7888396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubble07/pseuds/Bubble07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa has a serious crush on Anya's neighbour. Clarke is totally smitten when it comes to her neighbours sister. Both of them are dense and cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!

Chapter 1 

Lexa was bleeding.

She looked down at her hand, eyes widening at the darkness that was blooming across her palm and pelting droplet of deep red onto the grass below. 

“Shit,” she moaned. “I just bought this top.”

“Fuck Lex! Let me see.”

Lexa held out her hand to her brother, noticing a slight tremor in her arm which was growing hot and uncomfortable the blood streaming down it. Lincoln led her over to the tap at the back of the house and rinsed away the blood so that he could inspect the injury. There was a deep cut extending from the inside of the left thumb two thirds of the way across her palm. As quickly as it washed away fresh blood pumped from the cut and mixed with the water. 

“You’re going to need stitches,” he said, wrapping a cloth from his back pocket tightly around the wound to staunch the bleeding and looking at her with concern. “Come on, that must fucking hurt.”

“Everything ok guys? There’s a lot of swearing going on for so early on a Saturday morning.”

Lexa and Lincoln both turned their heads towards the sound of the voice, watching as a head emerged from over the rose bushes. Lexa sucked in the whatever surprised noise was trying to escape her lips, swallowing it with a kind of tiny gasp. Lincoln shot her another concern glance. 

The face hovering over the fence was framed by wavy blonde hair, caught up in a loose bun tied at the top of her head. Bright blue eyes moved from Lincoln to Lexa, and then down to Lexa’s swaddled hand. Now under scrutiny, Lexa instantly became hyper-aware of her body and the heat that shot through her was punctuated by a sharp and piercing pain that ripped across her previously numb palm. A quiet hiss passed through her clenched teeth and the floating face fell with worry. 

Thankfully Lincoln still seemed to possess the power of speech, explaining, “Bob the builder over here had a bit of a run in with a saw. It’s pretty bad, we’re going to head to the hospital and get it stitched up.”

“Oh, crap! I can look at it if you want Lexa? Might be able to save you a few hours of hanging around the emergency room.”

“Uhm-” Lexa stumbled, “ yeah, sure, that would be great. Thanks Clarke. I don’t think it’s even that bad, Linc’s just being dramatic. It probably doesn’t even need stitches.”

Clarke nodded and shot her a quick smile before her head ducked out of sight. “I’ll just grab my kit,” she called, a soft thud indicating that she had jumped off whatever she had been standing on to peer over the boundary between the two gardens.

Lincoln dragged two chairs over to the grass muttering something about ‘not getting blood all over Anya’s patio’ and ‘much worse than a cut hand’. As he moved over to unlatch the side gate they could hear footsteps pattering down the passageway.

Clarke pushed through the gate, making a beeline toward Lexa and pulling her down into one of the chairs. Lexa inhaled sharply as she felt Clarke’s hand press gently on her shoulder and a floral, woody smell fill the air. She felt somewhat dazed as a low humming filled her ears, settling the in the back of her head and distracting her from everything but the girl in front of her. This happened a lot when Clarke entered her airspace; as if her presence blocked her brain from sending the right signals to the right parts of her body. Or as if she’d downed half a bottle of whiskey. Her her eyes trailed the length of Clarke body; the yellow tank top that highlighted her tan, the black running shorts that appeared just below the hem, her bare feet with coral painted toenails matching the bracelet wrapped around her left ankle. She snapped her eyes upward, suddenly aware of what she was doing. Clearly the injury and this surprise appearance had suppressed any sense of self control. 

Thankfully Clarke was preoccupied with taking her seat across from Lexa and dropping the medical bag that had been slung over her shoulder, not noticing Lexa’s roving stare. She looked back up, leaning close to Lexa and positioning herself so that Lexa’s right leg was between her knees. 

“So, what happened?” she asked, taking Lexa’s bandaged hand gently in her own and unravelling the cloth. Lincoln retreated inside and re-emerged with bottles of water, handing one to Clarke who opened it and poured it over Lexa’s hand. The flow of blood seemed to be slowing, but the pain was growing steadily. Lexa was starting to feel slightly nauseous and she squirmed a little in her chair as the cold water seeped into the cut. Clarke grimaced and whispered a gentle “sorry” as she pressed lightly around the injury, leaning over to examine it more closely. Lexa let out a small whimper and clamped her legs briefly around Clarke’s knee. 

“Lexa either you’re a total liar or you have a ridiculously high pain threshold. This is a nasty fucking cut, I definitely need to stitch it”.

“It’s really not that sore,” replied Lexa, appreciating that the crack in her voice somewhat undermined what she was saying, and earning an unimpressed huff from both Clarke and Lincoln. 

Clarke sat back, pulling her bag towards her and removing a pair of latex gloves from a ziplock bag, securing them over her own hands with a loud snap. She next drew out a small syringe, tearing open the sterile packaging and examining the needle. 

“I’m going to inject local anaesthetic around the wound and clean it, ok? It will take a minute or so to kick in but it should eliminate the pain and allow me to stitch you up.” 

Lexa nodded, clenching her jaw and keeping her eyes trained on Clarke’s face as the point of the needle pierced her skin. She could help but wince, instinctively jerking her arm away, but Clarke seemed to be expecting the reaction and kept a firm grip on Lexa’s wrist. 

“It’s ok,” she said soothingly, looking up and locking Lexa’s gaze. She twitched her lips in a comforting half smile, half sympathetic grimace and Lexa felt her stomach flip slightly.  
She had never sat this close to Clarke, and their proximity was only adding to her current discomfort. Not that Clarke’s presence was unwanted, it was a discomfort that Lexa had been hooked on from the moment they met. The way her head buzzed when Clarke was in the same room, the way her heartbeat thudded so loudly in her ears that it was impossible to maintain any kind of conversation, the way her voice stuck in her throat and her skin burned. These symptoms of Clarke were all crosses worth bearing.

They had met a number of times before at various parties thrown by Anya, who’d developed a good relationship with Clarke once she realised that her new neighbour was close to her own age, and a good twenty years younger than the rest of the people on their street. She’d been around even more since Clarke’s best friend and housemate, Octavia, had started going out with Lincoln two months ago. The last time they had seen each other was at Anya’s Fourth of July barbeque a few weeks before, but they had never been so close or made any kind of physical contact. If Lexa had been flustered by their previous interactions then the current situation had her in a total tailspin. If the pain searing through her hand had not been doing such a good job of keeping her connected to her body, she thought that she might have actually just vacated it all together. 

It bothered her; this visceral, uncontrollable reaction she had to Clarke’s presence. She was never exactly Don Juan, but Lexa had always been quietly confident in her abilities. But now she just felt shy and awkward and wholly out of her depth. Like a fourteen year old with a crush. 

Once Clarke was satisfied that the wound was clean she threaded her needle and looked back up at Lexa who was, as it happened, staring intently back at her. The flash of blue made Lexa tense and drop her gaze quickly, swallowing her embarrassment. Thankfully, Clarke seemed to assume that this was trepidation at the sight of the needle and squeezed her wrist comfortingly, apparently not thinking that Lexa was a total creep. 

“How does it feel?” she asked gently. “Think you’re ready for the stitches?”

“Uh-um,” the nervousness she felt obvious by the catch in her voice, albeit nothing to do with the needle. She opted for a vigorous nod, not trusting herself to say anything more. 

The feeling of the needle and thread pulling through her tingling skin, tugging the gash closed, was unsettling. She was adequately distracted however, when she glanced over at Lincoln who was standing just to her right. Normally so stoic and calm, he visibly paled as his eyes followed Clarke’s hands. He looked like he was about to pass out, and Lexa had to bite back a grin.

“Linc,” she said, pulling his attention away from the stitches, “can go grab me a top from Anya’s room?” She pointed with her free hand toward her now ruined shirt. Damn.

Lincoln nodded slightly and moved back towards the house, looking thankful for the excuse not to watch any more. 

It only took a moment for Lexa to realise that her small kindness had left her completely alone with Clarke - for the first time ever. She suddenly felt a distinct pressure to make conversation and not just sit in silence as Clarke worked. Fucking potato. 

“So, do you do this often? Come to the rescue of clumsy neighbours I mean,” she added, in response to Clarke’s quirked brow. 

Clarke let out a soft chuckle, and Lexa’s stomach clenched as warm breath pushed against her skin.  
“Only the one’s I like,” she replied with a small wink and lop sided smile.

Lexa felt a ferocious burn rise up her neck and settle on her cheeks as she bit down on her lip, an embarrassed grin stretching the corner of her mouth.

“Ok you’re stitches are done,” said Clarke, snipping of the thread with a small scissors. “Great job babe.”

Lexa’s felt her chest thrum at the term, but pushed past it, examining her hand and the now tightly knitted cut. “Thank you so much, Clarke. I seriously owe you one.”

“I wish all my patients were as appreciative. I’ll just bandage it and then you’re good to go. Make sure to keep it dry and come over on Wednesday so I can check on it. The stitches should be able to come out in ten days.”

“No don’t worry about it, you’ve given me enough free medical care, I’ll get it checked with my doctor next week,” rushed Lexa, as Clarke leant down to pull out a bandage, wrapping it tightly round Lexa’s injured hand. 

Clarke stilled, locking eyes with Lexa again. “Lexa, it is a grave insult to a doctor’s pride to have someone else do your follow up appointments.” 

Lexa shook her head, grinning slightly at the glint evident in Clarke’s stare and the lilt in her voice. “Seriously Clarke, I’m not taking up any more of your time.”

“You can pay me if it makes you feel better. I accept all major currencies, namely beer and pizza.”

Lexa’s eyes widened imperceptibly (she hoped). Clarke was still holding her gaze, Lexa’s hand clasped in hers, and if anything they seemed to be leaning in closer than before. Although maybe Lexa was the one leaning in, feeling as though something was pulling her forward. Shit. 

She cleared her throat sharply, refocusing herself and trying to look relaxed as she sat back in the chair. “Well I wouldn’t want to offend you after you’ve been so generous,” returning Clarke’s smile. She seemed to be doing a lot of that today. 

“So what were you guys doing anyway?” enquired Clarke, looking over at the stack of wood piled in the centre of the garden. 

“We’re building a treehouse for Aden for his birthday. Anya said she’d have him out all day, so we should be able to keep it hidden until tomorrow. You’re coming to the party, yeah?”

“I am,” nodded Clarke, “looking forward to it. Do you need help finishing the treehouse? It’s going to be difficult with that hand.” 

“N-”, began Lexa, touched that Clarke had offered but determined not to take up any more of her Saturday. 

“That would be great Clarke!” interrupted Lincoln, emerging from the house. “Only if you want to though. We need to get this done today and Lex isn’t going to be much use, but I can call someone else if you have plans.”

“My shift starts at six, so you have me at your disposal all day. And lucky for you I’m a pro at building treehouses,” replied Clarke, standing up. “Just let me throw this,” she nodded at her first aid bag, “back in the house and grab some shoes.”

As Clarke disappeared back through the gate Lexa stood and rounded on her brother with a low hiss. 

“You shouldn’t have asked her to do that Lincoln! She’s just spent half an hour fixing my hand, we can’t take up more of her time!”

“Calm down Lex,” Lincoln took half a step back, raising his hands in pacification and clearly taken aback by her sudden anger. “She offered, and it sounds like she wants to help.” 

“She’s too nice,” Lexa bit back, “she’ll offer to do anything to help. That doesn’t mean we should take advantage.”

Lincoln’s face transformed into one of amusement at this. “Big fan, are we Lex?”

“Oh fuck off.” she muttered, pulling the clean shirt from his hand and throwing it on the the back of her chair. “Go be useful and grab the nails from the back of the truck”. Prick.

Lexa turned and reached for the hem of her tank top, trying to pull it off one handed while keeping it from turning inside out so as not to transfer the blood to her skin. It turned out to be considerably more difficult than she anticipated and she huffed in frustration as she struggled to get it over her head. 

“Here,” mumbled a voice softly from right in front of her. Lexa froze, top obscuring her face and one arm raised awkwardly above her head. The voice, while unmistakably Clarke’s, sounded different - deeper than usual, carrying a tone that Lexa could not place. 

With a gentle tug the shirt was pulled off and Clarke came into view. They were inches apart and their eyes met instantly. A jolt ran through Lexa’s body and she thrummed with the aftershock, forgetting to breathe and losing herself in the blaze of blue. Something shifted and the air around her felt different, heavy in a way that was compressing her from the inside out. The nervousness that usually invaded her was replaced with a kind of anticipation and it was like there was a tether pulling at her stomach, bringing her closer to Clarke. The breath that she was holding forced itself out through her nose and that smallest of disruptions worked to snap her out of her reverie. Lexa blinked rapidly, pulling her shoulders back and noting that she had not, in fact, reduced the distance between them. Get it together. 

“Thanks,” she whispered, taking the ruined top from Clarke’s hand, stepping away and turning to pick up the fresh one from the back of her chair, taking a moment to collect herself. A split second was all it took for her to realise that she was now standing topless but for her black sports bra. She cleared her throat loudly, pulling on the top with all the speed she could manage, thankful that it proved a simpler task than taking off her other one.

When she turned back she saw that Clarke wasn’t looking anyway, reaching down for one of the bottles of water on the ground. She held it out to Lexa along with a small tube of pills. 

“You’ll want to take two now and then again every four hours for the next forty eight hours or so. Once that anesthetic wears off that hand is going to start hurting again.”

Lexa didn’t reply but threw two tablets into her mouth, downing the whole bottle of water in one go, avoiding eye contact. 

Thankfully Lincoln was back between them moments later, showing Clarke the progress they had made so far and what was left for them to do on the treehouse. Lexa took the welcome distraction to take a few deep, shaky breaths. What the hell was that. If she didn’t pull it together she was bound to start making Clarke feel uncomfortable and that was absolutely the last thing she wanted. Just talk you jackass; act like a normal human being, she thought, steeling herself to re enter the conversation between Clarke and Lincoln. Be a friend, be friendly. No eye contact for longer than one second. Stop being such a fucking potato. 

That was how the day went, with Lexa giving herself constant internal pep talks and chastisements, and being fairly pleased with her performance, confident that she had regained some kind of composure. Conversation flowed easily between the three of them and Lexa found herself laughing more than she could remember doing in a long time. Despite the ache in her hand and the sweat beading on her skin from the exertion of lifting planks, climbing the tree and hammering nails with one hand, she felt lighter and more rejuvenated that she had in months. 

Clarke, as it turned out, was an excellent recruit and between the three of them they were able to finish the treehouse by mid afternoon. They sat on the grass, rubbing their aching muscles and guzzling water while admiring their handy work. The treehouse sat in the corner of garden in the middle of a large oak tree that had split down the middle years ago during a thunderstorm, leaving enough space for a four metre square platform. They had enclosed the decking with dozens of two metre high planks, roof disappearing under the canopy of leaves that hung from the branches of the tree. The only gap was where they had cut away the bottom third of the middle planks to act as an entrance, and a small gap on the right wall which served as a window, allowing light to flood the space throughout the day. A series of smaller planks had been fixed to the trunk of the tree to make a ladder, and above the entrance Clarke had painstakingly carved out the words “Trikru”. It was a gesture that made Lexa watch Clarke with softened eyes and a smile on her lips, with Lincoln throwing her a series of curious looks that she pretended not to see. She could feel affection for Clarke swell and bubble within her. 

After flaking out on the grass for almost half an hour Clarke sighed and rose to her feet. Lexa and Lincoln copied the movement. 

“I should go shower before I head to work. Thanks for letting me help guys, I had a really good time.” She was so genuine and her smile so sincere that Lexa had to fight herself from pulling her into a tight hug, instead looking down at the ground while Lincoln thanked Clarke profusely and promised to bankroll her bar tap on the next night out with Octavia. Lexa only looked back up when she heard Clarke speak directly to her, taking her injured hand back into hers and inspecting the it to make sure that there was no blood coming through the bandage. 

“I’ll rewrap it tomorrow, make sure to take those tablets or you won’t be able to sleep, ok?” 

“Thanks Clarke, for all of this”, Lexa gestured with her bandaged hand toward the treehouse. Before she could catch herself she was gathering Clarke into a hug after all, arms wrapped around her shoulders. Panic waved over her almost instantly, and she frantically sought for a way to exit the situation without making it any more awkward. A split second later however, she felt hands rest on her shoulder blades as Clarke pressed ever so slightly further into the embrace. When they detached from each other Clarke shot her another smile, promising that it was her pleasure and headed back out of the garden. Friends hug. That was fine, friends hug. 

“Smooth, Lex,” snorted Lincoln, shoving her shoulder playfully and moving to gather up the spare wood and tools. 

Fuck.  
 


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke was leaning against the nurse’s station, head resting in her right hand as she filled in the charts for her patients that evening. She was halfway through her twelve hour shift and couldn’t suppress another yawn escaping her mouth. 

She had really enjoyed the day and her time with Lincoln and Lexa. She’d laughed at the banter between the siblings, felt included and welcome in their conversation and, in the end, was really quite proud of what they had created for Aden. He was a great kid and Clarke knew that he would be so excited when he woke up the next day and saw the treehouse. 

When her mind wandered away from those thoughts however, it always managed to find its way to one thing in particular. 

When she had first met Lexa a few months ago she of course noticed how breathtakingly, heart stoppingly gorgeous she was. She had eyes after all, and no one could look at her and not notice. Wavy brown hair that was always worn down, falling to the middle of her back or gathered over one shoulder. Tanned skin that caught around toned muscles, evidence of her obvious fitness and athleticism. A long neck and defined jawline that conveyed a certain authority that softened immediately when a trademark smirk pulled at the left side of soft, full lips. Eyes that seemed to change colour depending on the light, ranging from a soft blue-green to almost brown in the darkness. Today, in the blazing summer sun, they were a shade of sparkling green flecked with streaks of gold that added a layer of warmth to the piercing brightness. Clarke had never seen anything like it and when she first took her seat opposite Lexa that morning, so close that she could take in every detail of her face, those eyes, those lips, she swore that her heart stopped and her stomach clenched and a jolt of electricity tingled through her fingers and toes. 

She had forced herself to concentrate on the stitches, making sure that the cut would leave only the faintest scar, and not on the tug in her chest. It was as though there was a cord running between the two of them that had suddenly tautened, determined to pull her even closer to Lexa. The attraction was almost overwhelming. The conversations that they had had in the past had always carried a slight edge, the kind where it was impossible to tell if it was one sided or mutual. But it had never been the right time or place to be anything more than friendly, always at one of Anya’s gatherings surrounded by other people that Clarke was only just getting to know. She knew it would be inappropriate so she never flirted, or hinted, or led the conversation in a direction that could be construed as anything other than neighbourly. Neither had Lexa and Clarke could only wonder as to whether it was for the same reason or because she was really only interested in being friends. 

But the pair always seemed to gravitate toward each other, and since Octavia started going out with Lincoln their dynamic had shifted from neighbours or casual acquaintances who saw each other once every few weeks, to part of an overlapping social circle that had already thrown them together more often than before. It was why she had been so pleased to help with the treehouse, eager to build a relationship with her best friend's new boyfriend, someone who she figured could well be in her life for a very, very long time. If that meant spending a full day with Lexa, speaking more than at every other occasion combined, getting to know her personality and how she moved, how she spoke, what made her laugh, then so be it. Needs must. 

Clarke thought that maybe, after today, they had moved toward a place where she could begin to test the waters, to see if some mild flirting encouraged the same from Lexa. She thought that Lexa had seemed different today, had reacted to their closeness just like she had. Thought Lexa’s eyes had widened when they touched, that she heard a hitch in her breath more than once.

There was of course, she reminded herself, a reasonable chance that those mild physical reactions and the clear nervousness were the symptoms of blood loss. There was also a chance, she cautioned herself, that this was totally one sided and Lexa had no inclination or desire for more between them. Clarke wondered if her own feelings of attraction were so strong as to distort her usually sound ability to read a situation. But honestly, she didn’t think she could suppress it any longer. 

When Clarke had walked back into the garden to see Lexa struggling, half topless, with a flat, toned, tanned stomach on full display she nearly moaned out load. Even now, hours later, the memory made her bite down on her lip and something tighten in her lower stomach. Unf. 

She had found herself moving toward Lexa, trancelike, emboldened by the fact that Lexa could not see her approach. When she stopped in front of her and offered to help, it took all her self control not to reach out and run her fingers over the expanse of soft skin, trace the outline of the muscles rippling under the surface. When the top had been removed, Clarke had to will her eyes not to drop down towards Lexa’s sports bra, and instead locked onto the eyes in front of her. While she had been too stunned to think it at the time, in hindsight the blazing look in Lexa’s eyes could not have been from strictly platonic feelings. Clarke was sure that Lexa had felt the heat positively radiating off her. She cringed inwardly at her own lack of subtlety. Fuck. 

Clarke sighed and looked back down to the charts she way meant to be completing, forcing herself to concentrate. It was a quieter-than-usual night, and she was taking the opportunity to catch up on the mountain of paperwork that needed attention. Another hour passed before she put down her pen, rubbing her face and stretching with a groan. As she lowered her eyes Clarke caught the blurry outline of someone moving toward her and she blinked rapidly a few times, waiting for her tired pupils to focus. The first thing to break through the fog was a pair of bright green eyes looking back at her - the exact same eyes that she had spent most of the day thinking about. 

“Lexa?” she asked, her confusion being replacing almost immediately by concern. “Are you alright? What are you doing here, is it your hand?” She took a step forward, reaching out instinctively and looking down at Lexa’s bandaged hand. Her brow crinkled when she saw that it was wrapped around a large takeaway coffee cup.

She looked back up at Lexa, whose cheeks had gone the faintest shade of pink and was looking slightly awkward. 

“No, no I’m fine Clarke. I, um, thought I’d - I thought you’d be tired after helping us all day and felt bad that you had to go straight to work and I - I brought you coffee.” Lexa’s voice trailed off quietly and her shoulder shifted in a tiny shrug as she held out her hands, both of which were holding coffee cups. “I wasn’t sure how you took it,” she continued, “so I got black and a latte, I’ll have whatever one you don’t want.”

Clarke stared, mouth slightly open. 

“Clarke?” Lexa’s quirked her eyebrow at the prolonged silence and the left side of her mouth curved into an amused smile. 

Clarke started slightly. “I-,” she stalled again. Words. Use fucking words, she inwardly chastised. “Lexa it’s -” she glanced down to her watch, “1 am.”

Lexa bit her bottom lip and Clarke swallowed as her own eyes followed the motion. 

“I was on my way home from Anya’s. There’s like three 24 hour Starbucks between her house and here.” She shrugged again and looked down at her feet.

Clarke felt a warmth radiate throughout her body, transforming her confused expression to a wide, beaming smile. 

“That’s very sweet Lexa,” she said, reaching out and gently taking the cup with the word ‘Latte’ scribbled across the side. “You didn’t have to do that, you must be wrecked.” She sipped from the cup and sighed happily at the taste, closing her eyes briefly in pleasure. Clarke ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, licking off the traces of the coffee, and when she opened her eyes again she saw Lexa’s eyes flick back up to her own as she cleared her throat and drank hastily from her own cup.

“Well I should let you get back to work. Thanks again for today Clarke, Lincoln and I owe you one. Like a huge one, so if you ever need a kidney or anything you know where to look.” Lexa stepped back slightly, looking ready to leave. 

“Wait,” rushed Clarke, reaching out and laying a hand softly on Lexa’s forearm. “It’s actually been really quiet so if you want to stay for a bit and finish your coffee I should have a few minutes.”

“Sure,” smiled Lexa, warmly, following Clarke down the corridor and into an empty kitchen area with ‘Staff’ written on the door. “Is there no one else here?” she asked, confused by how quiet it was. 

“There’s not many patients on this ward at the moment, the other doctors are on call so they’re asleep in the on call rooms, and there’s three nurses floating around somewhere,” explained Clarke.

“I thought you worked in the A&E?”

Clarke hummed in response, taking another sip of her coffee and taking a seat at the small table, Lexa doing the same. “I do, just covering a shift for a friend. It’s a nice change of pace actually. The A&E is always insane.”

“Rescuing neighbours in distress, building treehouses, taking on extra shifts, saving lives,” grinned Lexa, shooting her an appraising look. “Is there anything you can’t do Clarke?”

“All in a day’s work,” replied Clarke with a wink. 

While Clarke felt wholly comfortable with Lexa she couldn’t ignore the underlying tension between them; the prolonged eye contact, the shy smiles and the somewhat contrived politeness. Clarke was becoming more confident than ever that the attraction was not one-sided, but thought that it was still too soon to be certain. The two continued to chat until Clarke’s pager buzzed from where it was hooked to the collar of her scrubs.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” said Lexa, rising from her chair and pulling out her phone to check the time. She let out a soft chuckle. “No harm anyway, it’s 2.30.”

“Oh god Lexa,” groaned Clarke, covering her face with her hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kept you here so long.”

“Don’t Clarke,” replied Lexa, a firmness noticeable in her voice. “I enjoyed it, I like spending time with you. I’m a night person anyway, I’d probably still be up if I was at home.” 

Clarke hesitated for a moment, then reached out and gently prised the phone from Lexa’s hand. She tapped the screen for a few moments then handed back, feeling slightly nervous as she stole a glance at Lexa who was staring down at the phone, completely still. 

“If you ever feel like keeping me company during my night shifts,” she explained, feeling herself blush as she watched a wide smile take over Lexa’s features. “See you tomorrow Lexa.”

She left the room, sliding her hands into the pockets of her white coat and sucking in her bottom lip, feeling giddy at her own boldness and not hearing Lexa’s whispered reply. 

“See you tomorrow, Clarke.”


	3. Chapter 3

Lexa turned her key in the door of her apartment, taking out her earphones and shifting the grocery bag in her other arm. She huffed at the pressure that it put on her bandaged hand and dropped the bag on the kitchen counter with relief. She pulled off her top as she moved toward her bedroom, kicking off her runners as she went, and throwing it, along with her sports bra and shorts into the laundry hamper. 

Grabbing a fresh towel she stepped into her ensuite bathroom, turning on the shower and letting it heat up while turning to the mirror. Her face was flushed after her morning run and a thin layer of sweat clung to her skin. She’d gone out extra early this morning to beat the worst of the sun, but it had still been hot as hell. She unwrapped the bandage from her hand, wincing slightly as she examined the cut. And thinking about how she was going to keep it from getting wet in the shower. With a flash of inspiration she walked back to the kitchen and grabbed a roll of plastic wrap, not bothering to cover up because Lincoln had spent the night at Octavia’s. He stayed there a lot, particularly when Clarke was on night shifts and they had the house to themselves. It was really a win for both of them; Lincoln got to stay with his girlfriend, who he was totally infatuated with, and Lexa got the apartment to herself. 

After securing the plastic wrap around her hand she pulled her hair out of its high ponytail and jumped in the shower, sighing in pleasure as the hot water soothed her muscles, sore from both building the tree house and her morning workout. It had been after 3am by the time she’d got home and had dragged herself out of bed at seven, starting her run an hour later than usual. She didn’t normally need much sleep, and the combination of the exercise and shower was reviving her better far better than staying in bed would have. 

Keeping her stitches dry proved to be a challenge, particularly when washing her mass of thick hair which she had to do one handed. When she finally rinsed out all the suds she tied the towel around her hair and moved back into the kitchen, wet skin dimpling with goosebumps in the air conditioned apartment. On Sunday mornings she included the farmers market in her route so that she could pick up fresh fruit and vegetables for the week and she pulled these out of the bag, picking out her favourite smoothie combination and throwing them into the blender.

She walked back into her bedroom, sipping the bright green smoothie and pulling the towel off her head, rubbing it through her hair. It took a good five minutes of brushing and copious amounts of hair products before she could even turn on her hair dryer, and another ten minutes before her hair was dry. Opening her wardrobe doors she began throwing clothes over her shoulder, eventually settling on black denim shorts with flipflops and a loose-fitting white top with three-quarter length sleeves, and she couldn’t help but wonder briefly if Clarke would approve. 

When she’d stopped by the hospital the night before it was because she felt genuinely guilty about Clarke having to face a full night of work after helping her and Lincoln all day. She had not expected Clarke to have time to chat let alone to have an hour and a half to hang out. They had never spent any length of time alone together, and if Lexa had had time to think about the situation she’s sure that her nerves would have got the better of her. She wasn’t at all surprised that they got on so well. Clarke was just one of those people who could talk to anyone and make it comfortable and easy. She smoothly took control of the conversation, but gave Lexa her undivided attention when she was speaking, never cutting across her, laughing at all the right times and always smiling encouragingly. Lexa quickly eased into their rhythm, and all nervousness dissipated, leaving only the faint fluttering that she supposed she would just have to get used to when with Clarke. 

And then Clarke had put her number in her phone, pushing the bounds of their new friendship even further, and Lexa had instantly reverted back to that fourteen year old kid with a crush again: sweaty palms, inability to form words, on the verge of awkward giggling. 

Not today, she thought. She was starting to think that maybe her feelings towards Clarke were not as unrequited as she had assumed, and suddenly the embarrassing crush that she had on her sister’s neighbour became something entirely different. And as nervous as that thought made her, it was laced with an excitement and anticipation that had not been there before. 

She pulled her sexiest black thong and bra out of her drawer, knowing that Clarke wouldn’t see them but that she would feel more confident wearing them. And she needed all the confidence she could get today. She needed to figure out where she stood. 

Her phone rang on her bedside table. “Hey An- oh hey Aden,” she grinned at the babbling excitement coming from the other end of the phone. “I’m glad you like it buddy...yeah Lincoln and Clarke...sure, if you want...ok I’ll see you in a bit...happy birthday bud.”

Lexa hung up with a chuckle, delighted at the palpable happiness that Aden had exuded over the phone. Her heart warmed at everything to do with her nephew, particularly when he was clearly so happy. She, Lincoln and Anya had all lived in together in their family home after their parents died ten years ago, and Anya had only moved into her current house when Aden was three, so Lexa had developed a particularly close relationship with him, as had Lincoln. She had been heartbroken when they had moved, but knew that it was good for Anya and her son to be out on their own. Their parents had left them a certain amount of money and once they sold the family home they could to buy Anya a smaller house and divide the rest between Lincoln and Lexa. 

When she was ready to go she grabbed her keys and wallet, wrapping her free arm around Aden’s present, and headed down to her truck, moving awkwardly down the halls and staircase due to the size and shape of it. The drive was only about twenty minutes. They had tried to find an apartment close to Anya, but far enough to give them some space and within walking distance from when downtown, where both Lexa and Lincoln worked. 

She didn’t bother knocking on Anya’s door when she arrived, pulling out her key instead, knowing that Anya was expecting her. 

“Hey Anya,” she called, dropping her keys on the hall table. 

“In the kitchen Lex!”

“Where’s the birthday boy?” she asked as she walked into the kitchen, wrapping her sister into a quick hug. 

“Where do you think?” grinned back Anya. “Want a cup of coffee?” 

“Yeah sure, I’ll just go out and say hi to him.” 

Lexa moved out into the garden and toward the treehouse. She didn’t need to use the steps as the treehouse was only a few feet off the ground, and instead pulled herself onto a low branch, poking her head through the doorway. She grinned widely as she looked around. Aden was standing on his tippie toes in the corner with his back to her, arms outstretched as he hung a surfing poster Lexa had given him for his bedroom to the wall. 

“Need a hand there buddy?” she asked, ducking down and squeezing through the door. 

“Aunty Lex!” squealed Aden, dropping the poster to the ground and barrelling into her, small arms wrapping tightly around her waist. Lexa chuckled softly, dropping a kiss onto the sandy coloured hair and returning the hug. “Thank you for my treehouse,” he murmured, voice muffled as he pressed his face into her stomach. 

“Anything for the birthday boy,” smiled Lexa, looking down at him. Big brown eyes sparkled back at her. “Want to show me around.”

Aden beamed, pulling her over to the the corner of the treehouse where he had laid out a pile of blankets and pillows. “This is the living room,” he said seriously. This,” he said, moving five steps to the right, “is the playroom.” He pointed toward a stack of lego and puzzle boxes. “And this is the kitchen,” he added, pointing toward a box of animal crackers in the far corner. 

Lexa kept a straight face through the brief tour, suppressing the laughter that threatened to escape at the little boys enthusiasm. Aden had already hung a number of posters on the wall, all of which Lexa recognized from his bedroom, most of which had been hers at some point. 

“He’s been decorating all morning,” explained Anya, handing two cups of coffee to Lexa before pulling herself through the door. 

They sat on the pillows, sipping their coffee while Aden compiled a list of people that could have the password to his treehouse. Lexa smiled into her mug when she looked over his shoulder and saw Clarke was one of only four names on the list. 

The morning fell away as Anya and Lexa got things ready for the party and Aden continued to decorate his tree house. Birthdays had always been a big event in the Woods household, and between adults and kids they were expecting a big crowd. Anya disappeared inside to finish icing the birthday cake while Lexa lit the barbeque. 

Loud singing drifted through the air as the side gate swung open and Lincoln stepped into the garden, bellowing ‘Happy Birthday’ at the top of his voice, grinning widely as Aden’s head popped excitedly out of the door of the tree house. 

“Uncle Linc!” yelled the little boy, scramble down the trunk of the tree and hurtling himself towards the still singing Lincoln, who picked him up with ease and swung him in circles a few times before pulling him into a bear hug, little legs dangling four feet off the ground. 

“Happy birthday Little Man,” he said, lowering Aden to the ground. They did their customary secret, ‘boys only’ handshake. 

Anya watched the exchange from the doorway, smiling fondly at them before welcoming her brother with a hug. 

“Can I show you my tree house,” implored Aden, tugging on Lincoln’s arm and trying to pull him way from Anya. 

“Totally, let’s go!” said Lincoln, excitement lacing his own voice too, and the pair disappeared back up the tree while Anya and Lexa dropped into a set of garden chairs. Anya popped open a bottle of beer and passed it to Lexa. The two of them sat quietly, smiling at the gasps and that issued from the tree house as Lincoln congratulated Aden on ‘the best man cave ever’. 

When the two rejoined them, Anya handed a beer to Lincoln before turning to Aden.

“So, do you have the best Aunt and Uncle or what?” she asked. 

“And Clarke too!” he beamed, bouncing a little in his chair and nodding his head vigorously. 

“You really like her, huh?” said Anya, smiling at her son. Any one who put as much time and effort into Aden as Clarke did was as good as family in her book, and Aden’s own comfort around her only solidified that. 

“He’s not the only one,” smirked Lincoln, flicking his head toward Lexa, grimacing slightly as she punched him hard in the arm. 

“What!” spluttered Anya, spitting out beer in surprise and rounding on Lexa. “You like Clarke?!”

“Oh my god Anya, shut the fuck up!” Lexa half snarled, half whimpered, clamping two hands over Aden’s ears as she did so. “She lives right next door!” 

Anya continued to stare at her, mouth agape as Lexa lowered her hands, Aden apparently totally unphased by his brief deafness. Anya’s reaction, while supremely irritating and momentarily panic-inducing, was not particularly surprising. It wasn’t often that either of her siblings got any kind of information on who she was seeing or, in this case, had a major crush on. 

Lexa leaned over, pushing up Anya’s jaw that was hanging open and huffing in exasperation. So fucking dramatic. 

“Sorry Lex,” said Anya, looking toward the house next door. “I was just...surprised.”

“You and me both,” nodded Lincoln, not looking at all remorseful. 

“Is she gay?” 

Lexa shrugged. “I-” she began.

“She’s bi,” interjected Lincoln, barely containing his excitement.

“What?” said Lexa and Anya together, both heads snapping toward Lincoln who was beaming back that them. 

“Ye-p,” he replied, with a smug pop. “I asked O. Don’t look at me like that,” he added quickly, reading Lexa’s expression. “I didn’t say why I was asking, it just kind of came up.”

Lexa sat back in her chair, staring intently at the beer bottle in her hand while her mind raced with this new information. She definitely thought that she could feel something between her and Clarke, and now that she knew Clarke wasn’t straight everything suddenly became far less intimidating. Sure, Clarke might not be interested, but it was far less daunting flirting with a girl you knew was gay or bi rather than one that identified as straight, even if they did seem into you. 

“Oh my God! Look at that smile!” exclaimed Anya, pointing at Lexa who had been absorbed in her own thoughts, eyes fixed on the beer bottle and a wide smile drifting across her lips. “Lexa, you’re totally smitten!”

“What does smitten mean?” interrupted Aden, cutting Lexa off before she bite out a response. 

“It’s when you think about someone all the time and get a warm fuzzy feeling when you’re with them and you smile all the time,” said Lincoln. 

“Oh,” said Aden, and then, after a pause, “so you’re smitten with Octavia.”

“Absolutely, little man,” chuckled Lincoln.

“Aden, do you want Linc and I to give you your birthday present now?” asked Lexa, deciding it was time to change the topic of conversation. 

“But you already gave it to me,” said Aden, looking confusedly toward the treehouse. 

“Well we got you something else too.” Lexa jumped up and went into the house, remerging with Aden’s present under her arm.

Aden’s mouth fell open when he saw what Lexa was carrying, and he lept from his seat, jumping up and down in excitement, fist pumping in above his head. “YES! YES! YES!” He took the surfboard from Lexa’s arms, struggling with the size of it and nearly dropping it before Lincoln put out a hand to steady him. 

Eyes wide and shining, he looked back to Anya. “Am I allowed Mom? Am I? You said when I was bigger and I’m bigger than ever?” he rushed out breathlessly. 

“I think it’s about time we get the youngest Woods out on the waves,” nodded Anya, earning a yell of delight from Aden.

It took another ten minutes for them to convince Aden that they couldn’t go to beach right away, but had to stay for his party. Somewhat disgruntled, he propped the board against the fence so that it would be on full display, and as people began to arrive Aden immediately pulled them into the garden to show it to them, hands gesturing wildly and chattering constantly. 

Lexa and Lincoln were standing by the grill, sipping their beers and keeping an eye on the food, when Octavia and Clarke arrived. Octavia reached up to pull Lincoln down for a quick on the cheek. 

Aden was between the four of them before Lexa and Clarke could even exchange hellos, taking the newcomers by the hand and dragging them over to his board. Lexa and Lincoln smiled as they watched the exchange, Clarke and Octavia’s ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ floating through the air. The three of them returned after a few minutes, Aden beaming proudly and the two girls trying to hide their amusement. Lexa caught Clarke’s eye and flashed her a wink, holding out a bottle to her. 

As she sipped the beer, Lexa’s eyes were drawn to the lower lip that jutted over the bottom of the rim, noticing the way the tip of her tongue pressed against the opening of the bottle. Her eyes roved across her jawline, more defined than usual as she tilted her head back, lengthening her neck slightly in the process. Lexa’s skin was tingling again, and her stomach flipped as her breathing became shallower. She caught herself as her eyes threatened to roam down towards the dip in her tanktop and snapped her focus upward just as Clarke lowered the bottle. Their eyes locked. 

Fuck. 

She was totally caught. Lexa swallowed slightly, body still buzzing, about to make some kind of lame excuse. But then Clarke winked. Clarke caught her clearly checking her out and actually winked at her. At Lexa. And it was the hottest damn thing she’d ever experienced. That was flirting, that was a game changer. Internal fist bump.


	4. Chapter 4

She was checking her out. Subtly, maybe, but she knew that Lexa’s eyes were fixed on her with an intensity that threatened to make her blush. Clarke has seconds to figure out how to play this. She had been waiting for some kind of sign that Lexa was in to her. The visit at the hospital had only made Clarke’s crush even more intense, without confirming anything except that Lexa was in fact adorable, considerate, and great company. And while Lexa checking her out was hardly an indication that her feelings were mutual, it gave Clarke the confidence to push the boundaries without fearing that she was way off the mark. 

She lowered the bottle as Lexa’s eyes snapped back to her own and her somewhat dazed look was replaced immediately with one of panic, pupils blown wide as she realised Clarke had caught her. Clarke grinned, then winked in an attempting to convey an air of confidence; to let Lexa know that she didn’t mind, that she could check her out anytime she wanted. She prayed it didn’t come across as creepy, or like some kind of twitch. 

Judging by the smile that began to shape Lexa’s lips, and the way she stood slightly taller, pulling her shoulders back, Clarke reckoned that it was just as suave and charming as she had hoped. 

Game on. 

With some effort, Clarke pulled her thoughts away from Lexa and back to the group surrounding them, none of whom had noticed the silent, world-spinning revelations that had just occurred between the two of them. 

Aden was babbling excitedly to Octavia as he handed her a guest pass for his treehouse. She took the sheet of paper graciously, turning to Clarke to ask if she was joining them. 

Clarke nodded, eager to see what Aden had done with place in the few hours that he had gotten his hands on it. She held out her hand for a pass, but Aden shook his head.

‘No,’ he said seriously. ‘You're on the list, you can come in anytime you want.’

Clarke felt herself blush as Lexa chuckled softly behind her. Clarke was lost for words, surprised that the open invitation to the treehouse of a six year old would warm her heart so much, and so fell mutely into step behind Octavia as Aden led them to the treehouse with Lincoln and Lexa bringing up the rear. 

Clarke hoisted herself up the branches, stooping low to squeeze through the doorway. She glanced behind her and watched as Lexa pulled herself up, hissing sharply as she accidentally put pressure on her injured palm. 

‘Please don't ruin my handiwork,’ she reprimanded, offering out an arm for Lexa to pull herself up the last few feet.

Lexa grinned up at her. ‘Was that awful pun intentional, Clarke?’ 

‘What? It didn't have you in stitches?’ she retorted, to the genuine giggle of Aden, and the groans of Lincoln and Octavia. ‘As long as Aden thinks I'm funny,’ she concluded, ruffling his hair and looking back to Lexa just in time to see her face soften at the gesture. 

The next ten minutes were spent with Aden giving them the tour of the treehouse, explaining his plans for what else he was going to do to it, and talking rapidly about how he was going to learn to surf like the people in Lexa's posters.

It was probably the smug look on Clarke’s face that prompted Lexa to ask what she found so amusing. 

“Just admiring your taste,” she replied, low enough so that no one else could hear them as they continued the conversation. 

“In posters?” asked Lexa, confused. 

“More like in the very underdressed, very attractive women in said posters,” said Clarke, barely holding back a laugh at the obvious blush that rose in Lexa’s face. 

“I- they’re not- I didn’t- I just appreciated their form,” stumbled Lexa, then hearing what she had said adding hastily, “I meant their surfing form, not their form form!” 

Clarke snorted, thoroughly amused and endeared by how flustered Lexa had become. “Calm down stud,” she said, “I’m kidding. Well kind of, you do actually have excellent taste,” she gestured toward the posters. 

“Can’t argue with that,” said Lexa, voice sounding lower than before. 

Clarke was caught off guard by the response and the appraising look that flashed mischievously across Lexa’s face. Heat rushed through her body as her eyes dropped to the small smile on Lexa’s lips. She'd never really noticed how perfect those lips actually were. How soft and full. How absolutely kissable. How she could close that distance in half a second. 

She was pulled back to earth abruptly by the sound of her name, snapping her focus away from Lexa's lips and taking the tiniest step back, turning toward Aden who was talking rapidly in her direction. Clarke nodded encouragingly even though she was taking in virtually nothing that the excited boy was saying, mind still clouded by Lexa-fog. She was pretty sure she caught the words “surfing” and “morning” before everyone around her was moving back toward the entrance to the treehouse and shimmying their way back to the ground and the other party guests. It took a moment for Clarke to realise it was only her and Lexa left. 

Lexa was watching her looking somewhat amused, eyebrow cocked. 

“What?” asked Clarke, slightly nervous. 

“I’m just surprised,” she replied, voice laced with amusement. 

Clarke would no doubt have followed up on that if she hadn’t been so distracted by how close Lexa was standing. Too close, most definitely. Unnecessarily close, for sure. Her eyes dropped back down to Lexa’s lips, and this time she didn’t even attempt to be subtle. The air around them felt charged, pulsing, like some external force was propelling her body toward the girl infront of her. Heat rushed through her as Lexa licked her bottom lip. Clarke thought the motion was probably unconscious, just like the small step toward Lexa that she took a second later. When her gaze flicked back up she saw that Lexa was staring at her lips too. She swallowed. 

Lexe looked up, locking eyes with Clarke. Eyes that were the widest and darkest shade of green that Clarke had ever seen, like peering into a forest in dusk; seeing green only because you already knew it was there. 

The two of them simply stood there, staring into each other's eyes. It should have been awkward, too intense, but Clarke’s brain didn’t seem to be registering that, or processing any recognisable thoughts at all. She had no idea how long they stayed like that, or how even as she thought they were standing so close they were actually still three feet apart, totally still, entranced. 

The tension building in Clarke’s body was almost painful. She leant forward slightly, noticing how Lexa’s eyes widened even further as she mirrored the action, eyes on each others lips once again. 

“LEXA!” 

The two of them jumped apart, whipping toward the entrance doorway where Anya’s head had appeared. 

“Lexa, I’ve been calling you!” interjected Anya, looking from Lexa to Clarke who had moved to the far corner, refusing to look at either of them.

“What, Anya?” replied Lexa, and the faintness to her voice made Clarke steal a glance in her direction. Lexa’s expression was somewhat dazed, and as Clarke watched she shook her head slightly as though trying to regain her focus.

“Where’s the other crate of beer?” asked Anya, “Could you seriously not hear me shouting?”

“I think we made this more soundproof than we intended,” rescued Clarke, tapping the side of the treehouse, and Lexa visibly relaxed at the joke. 

“Sorry,” said Lexa, “I think it’s still in the truck, I’ll go grab it.” She hesitated. “Coming, Clarke?”

Clarke raised her eyebrows at that. 

“Getting ahead of yourself there don’t you think?” she whispered as she passed in front of Lexa, low enough so that only Lexa could hear before following Anya back down the tree. She couldn’t suppress the grin that bubbled to the surface at the groan half of surprise, half something else entirely, that slipped from Lexa.


	5. Chapter 5

“So what did I just interrupt?” asked Anya, following Lexa out to the front of the house.

Lexa looked quickly over her shoulder to make sure that Clarke hadn’t followed them. 

“I don't know what you’re-” 

“Oh bullshit Lexa, don’t even try,” interjected Anya. “You too looked like you we’re either about to kill each other or fuck each other.”

Lexa stiffened, turning to glare at Anya in shock. Anya just stared back at her, challenging Lexa to argue, eyebrow cocked. Lexa was the first to look away, sighing and shaking her head as she did so. 

“It’s not like that Anya.”

“I know Lex, but you can’t pretend that there isn’t something going on between you two. I have eyes.” 

Lexa smiled slightly at that, feeling herself blush slightly. 

“I think she might not be totally opposed to the idea of me as more than a friend,” suggested Lexa quietly, jumping into the bed of the truck and hoisting the beer into Anya’s outstretched arms. 

“Yeah, well she has eyes too you dork,” replied Anya, clearly amused by her sister’s uncharacteristic bashfulness. “Are you going to ask her out?”

“I don’t think we’re quite there yet,” said Lexa, jumping back down off the truck and taking the crate from Anya. 

“You seem to be missing the point of a first date,” retorted Anya. “You don’t need to marry her before hand Lexa.”

“Fuck of Anya, I just don’t want to scare her off. Like, I think she’s flirting with me but that doesn’t mean she’s interested in actually going on a date. Maybe she’s just-” 

“Looking for a quick shag?” interrupted Anya. 

“Well, yeah,” said Lexa awkwardly. 

“Give yourself some credit dude,” assured Anya. “She’d be lucky to get a date with anyone in our smoking hot family.”

“I didn't know Uncle Titus was your type,” retorted Lexa. 

“You know maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if all Clarke was looking for was a one night stand,” grimaced Anya. “Once you get past your looks you're really just a massive pain in the ass. And maybe it would make you less sarky.” 

“You're an asshole Anya. For the life of me I don't know how you made a kid like Aden, I guess Lincoln and I did a good job of compensating,” bit back Lexa, amusement lacing her tone. 

“I made him by having sex Lexa, you should try it sometime,” grinned Anya, clearly pleased with her comeback. “Now let's get back to the party. Wouldn't want someone else swooping in on Clarke. Nico seemed particularly interested when he was asking me who the super hot blonde was.” 

She walked back into the house, barking with laughter at the look on her sister's face.

Lexa was crouching down, emptying the beer bottles into an ice bucket in the backyard when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up, immediately dazzled by the sun. Squeezing her eyes shut, she blinked rapidly trying to focus on the figure hovering above her. As her eyes adjusted to the light the blurry shape became more defined. Lexa’s voice stuck in her throat as she was struck dumb by the ephemeral, celestial outline before her, framed by the golden glow of the lowering sun.

“Lexa?” That voice could only belong to one person. 

Holy fucking shit. Then, get your shit together Lexa, she not a fucking angel. 

“Lexa?” repeated the voice, a little bit louder this time. 

Lexa rose to her feet, drying her hands on her top as she did so. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” she asked, feeling dazed again as Clarke face came fully into focus. Clarke was looking at her curiously, clearly somewhat entertained by Lexa’s disorientation. 

“I aksed if you wanted me to rewrap your hand. You know, before we crack in to those,” she indicated toward the replenished stock of beer. 

“Ehm, yeah sure I guess, that makes sense, if you don’t mind,” babbled Lexa, shifting awkwardly and looking everywhere but directly at Clarke, desperately trying to regain her composure. 

“Right,” said Clarke, sounding cautious. “Right, well my medical bag is over at mine, do you want to come over now? It should only take a few minutes.”

Lexa bobbed her head, not trusting her voice at the thought of being alone with Clarke. As Clarke turned, leading the way back through the side gate and over the low wall to her house, Lexa squared her shoulders and breathed deeply, forcing her nervousness to the back of her mind. 

“Do you always leave your back door unlocked?” asked Lexa as they stepped into a large open plan kitchen and living room, the same layout as Anya’s but without the usual lego scattered across the floor. 

Clarke shrugged. “It’s a nice neighbourhood,” she said. “And my parents were pretty laid back, I guess. We kind of always had an open door policy growing up.” 

Lexa decided not to question her use of the past tense. 

“Where do you want me?” she asked, as Clarke retrieved her bag from the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

“The couch is fine,” replied Clarke, sitting down on the coffee table opposite Lexa and opening her bag to take out what she needed. 

Lexa took the opportunity to look around her. The couch she was sitting on was large and comfortable, the teal fabric blending perfectly with the light grey walls. The floor was wooden and followed through into the small but well laid out kitchen, separated from the living area by a marble island. The kitchen table was set to one side of the room with two large beanbags opposite a large, expensive looking television. The coffee table that Clarke was perched on was sturdy and weathered, and Lexa thought that it was probably some kind of restored driftwood. Underneath the table was a huge rug that matched the colour on the walls and a substantial, heavily-laden bookshelf of the same wood as the coffee table stood on the opposite wall. She jumped slightly when a hand gently touched her own.

Lexa’s attention turned to Clarke as she began to unravel the bandage and examine Lexa’s hand. The only other time they had sat so closely had been when Clarke was putting in the stitches, and the pain had distracted Lexa at least partially. Now though, she was free to focus wholly on Clarke. Her eyes were downcast, intently studying the wound on Lexa’s hand and gently pressing the skin around the stitches. The tip of her tongue poked out from between her lips, the head tilting slightly to the right and a brow crinkled in concentration. Lexa’s eyes roamed freely across her features, taking in the flick of her nose, the freckle just above her lips and her left eyebrow, and the curve of her jaw leading down the gentle slope of her neck. Strands of wavy blonde hair were tucked behind small ears and a hint of some light, citrusy perfume hung in the air. Lexa could feel her heartbeat slow and her breathing deepen as she allowed herself to relax into the moment, simply enjoying Clarke’s presence. It was a nice change she thought, to feel calm around Clarke. Maybe the significant amount of time that they had spent together over the past twenty four hours had done something to ease the butterflies in her stomach. 

Then Clarke looked up, blues eyes twinkling in the light, and the eruption of fluttering in her belly corrected that brief thought. 

“The swelling has gone down a lot already,” appraised Clarke. “We might be able to take the stitches out earlier than I thought.”

“That would be great,” said Lexa. “Aden’s really disappointed that I can’t surf with him tomorrow. I’ll watch from the shore, but I’d like to get in the water with him as soon as possible.”

“Oh you’re surfing tomorrow?” asked Clarke casually, tightening the fresh bandage around her hand.

“Yeah, you are too Clarke,” replied Lexa, raising her eyebrows with a combination of confusion and amusement.

“I-huh?”

“In the treehouse?” questioned Lexa, and then when Clarke looked just as unaware as before, “Aden asked if you’d come surfing with us in the morning, you said yes.”

“Oh-oh right yeah,” scrambled Clarke, and Lexa noticed the distinct blush rising in her cheeks. “Yeah of course, surfing in the morning. Sorry, I must have spaced out a little bit.”

Clarke looked away hurriedly, standing up to stow her bag under the table and looking thoroughly flustered. Lexa remained seated, trying to piece together Clarke’s reaction. She couldn’t help but feel that she was missing something.

“Clarke?” she asked gently. It looked to her as though Clarke stiffened slightly, her back to Lexa. “You do know how to surf, right?”

Clarke turned at that and after a moment broke into a broad grin. 

“Yes Lex,” she assured, “I know how to surf. Although I don’t get out as much as I would like anymore, my shifts are a little all over the place. It’ll be nice to get back in the water.”

“Good,” beamed back Lexa. “It’s a big occasion, Aden’s been asking to start on his own board for months, I’ll be surprised if he sleeps at all tonight.”

“Well I’m honoured to be asked to join you,” replied Clarke, with a little bow. “Now let’s get back to this barbeque before all that beer is gone,” she added, sticking out a hand to pull Lexa off the couch. 

Lexa took it, feeling how it fit perfectly into her own. Clarke pulled her up with surprising strength. Lexa was so caught off guard that she gathered a little too much momentum, almost colliding with Clarke, bodies stopping just inches from each other and noses almost bumping. Lexa felt warm breath push across her face as Clarke exhaled in surprise. 

The two stood frozen, locked, green pouring into blue. Lexa was the first to break, eyes flitting down to slightly parted lips. Clarke bit down gently on her bottom lip, such a subtle movement that Lexa would have missed if it she weren’t focus intently on Clarke’s mouth right at that moment. 

Lexa’s body pulsed with anticipation. She lifted gaze back to blue eyes that twinkled with what she thought was recognition. Their hands were still grasped, pressed in between them, and she felt Clarke squeeze hers a little bit tighter. She dipped her head ever so slightly, bravely. Until she felt something on her leg. 

“Clarke,” she said, needing only the softest whisper because of the their proximity. 

“Lexa,” replied Clarke, voice equally low, but sounding huskier and sexier than Lexa had ever heard. 

“Your pocket’s vibrating.”

“What?” 

Lexa couldn’t help but smile at the confusion on Clarke’s face, despite her disappointment at another ill timed disruption. “Your phone, Clarke.”

“Oh,” she breathed, and then clearing her throat and stepping back slightly, “oh right, shit.”

“Shit,” agreed Lexa wryly, and Clarke’s sudden laughter diffused any awkward tension that may have crept up between the two of them. 

Clarke pulled her phone out of her front pocket, sliding her thumb across the screen and lifting it to her ear. They were now three feet apart, hands separated, but their eyes never left each other. 

“Yes, Octavia?” Lexa grinned at the obvious annoyance in Clarke’s tone. She clearly was not the only one dealing with frustration. “I was just rewrapping Lexa’s hand,” and then, “Yeah ok, we’ll be back over in a sec.” 

“Apparently your barbecue skills are required and you left your phone behind,” explained Clarke, disconnecting the call. 

“Right, well better not keep them waiting,” offered Lexa, standing aside to let Clarke lead the way out of the back door. 

Clarke stopped in the doorway, turning to look back at Lexa over her shoulder. 

“Lexa?” she said, amusement etched across her features. 

“Yes Clarke?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what Clarke?”

“Don’t make them wait too long,” she replied, before walking back to the party next door, leaving Lexa drop her head into her hands, groaning in exasperation.


	6. Chapter 6

“Jesus Christ, O!” hissed Clarke, as she was pounced upon and dragged unceremoniously to an unoccupied corner of the darkening garden. “Keep it down.” 

“Details, right now,” demanded Octavia, lowering her voice slightly, but not nearly enough for Clarke’s liking. 

“Well we were about to kiss when you rang me and ruined the moment,” she bit back, more harshly than intended. Octavia had the good grace to look ashamed. Clarke groaned and ran a hand through her hair. “Sorry,” she added, “I just-”

“Have it bad,” finished Octavia sympathetically. “Why don’t you just ask her out?”

“It’s not that simple,” said Clarke, shaking her head. “Like, I know she’s into me a little, we almost kissed twice today already, but that doesn’t mean she wants to go on a date. Hell, I don’t know if I want to go on a date!” 

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?” asked Clarke, raising an eyebrow in indignation. 

“I call bullshit,” replied Octavia, sagely. “You’ve been blushing since you came home from your shift. You have a crush, a bad one, and there’s no point denying it to anyone, including yourself. And anyone with eyes can see she has it just as bad, the attraction is basically radiating off her. And not in a ‘I just want to get in your pants’ kind of way, in a ‘god you’re cute and I’m a dork kind of way’.”

“She’s not a dork!” retorted Clarke. “Well ok she is, but in a good way.”

Octavia rolled her eyes as Clarke’s eyes glazed, thoughts wandering through all the cute mannerisms and habits that she’d noticed from Lexa over their admittedly short time spent together. The way she held herself, poker straight but seemingly relaxed, emanating a sense of calm reassurance, often with her hands held behind her back, observing. Always devoting her full attention to the person in front of her, nodding along as they spoke, but with one eye trained on Aden if he was in the vicinity. The way a beautiful shade of pink bloomed across her cheeks, the only hint that she was embarrassed or flustered. How she clicked the last syllable of Clarke’s name, as though feeling it on her tongue as she spoke. The way her lips curved to the left when she found something amusing, and how her left eyebrow mimicked the action if particularly entertained. How her laugh lit up her whole face, sparkled in her eyes and made warmth bubble through Clarke’s chest. How she commanded a room without demanding attention or even talking all that much. How often the tip of her tongue wetted her lips, and how often she absentmindedly chewed on her bottom lip. 

Clarke started when fingers clicked loudly in front of her eyes, pulling her back to reality. 

“Yo, earth to Clarke!” said an exasperated sounding Octavia. “Stop wet dreaming about Lexa.”

“Fuck off O,” scowled Clarke. 

“You clearly have it bad dude,” sighed Octavia. “Explain to me again why you’re not asking her on a date?”

“I - we’re not - I think we just need to spend some more time together. In a group, you know?”

“Well you’re coming surfing with us tomorrow? A whole day together should be all the time you need,” suggested Octavia. 

“Yeah, ah, about that-” started Clarke slowly.

“Oh come on, you can’t possibly be nervous about that! You basically have gills Clarke!” protested Octavia.

“No, no it’s not that. I just...need to make some calls,” mumbled Clarke, and then, after much probing from Octavia, “I need to find someone to cover the twelve hour shift that I’m supposed to be working.” She felt her face redden as she stalked away with her phone in hand, ignoring Octavia who was doubled over in laughter behind her. 

The next time she saw Lexa the garden was lit only by the moon and the flickering glow from the fire pit that Lincoln had pulled into the middle of the patio. Those who remained congregated around it, some sitting, some standing, divided into small groups. Octavia was sitting in Lincoln’s lap, her small frame looking even smaller when compared to his bulk. The two of them were talking quietly to Lexa who was in the chair beside them, a beer in one hand, the other wrapped around Aden who was curled into her, sleeping soundly with his head tucked against her left shoulder. 

It took another ten minutes before Clarke could politely extricate herself from her current company and make her way over to them, leaning with one hand on the back of Lincoln’s chair. 

“Looks like you were having a good time with Nico,” he observed, eyebrows raised. 

“He was telling me about his shop,” she replied, taking the bottle that Octavia offered her. “I’d love to see it some time.”

“It’s a cool place,” nodded Lincoln. “Nico’s tattooed all of us at some point,” he nodded toward Lexa and Anya, who was talking to a group at the opposite side of the pit, “it’s actually how we became friends.”

“You have a tattoo?” Clarke as curiously, looking down at Lexa. 

Lexa opened her mouth to answer but was forestalled by a soft grumble coming from the small bundle in her arms. All four of them looked down at Aden who was attempting to burrowing further into Lexa, and Clarke’s chest bubbled at the soft smile that graced her features. 

“I think it’s time I put this little guy to bed,” she said wrapping both arms around Aden as she stood. “Take my chair.” 

Clarke stepped aside to allow Lexa to move past her but both of them were halted by a tug on the bottom of Clarke’s shirt. Looking down, they saw that the hem of the cloth was grasped in a small fist. Chuckling, Lexa gently prised the little fingers apart cradled the boy higher in her arms as though he weighed nothing at all. Clarke brushed aside the sandy fringe that was falling across his face, marvelling at how fond she’d become of the little boy; how important his family had become to her in such a short amount of time. When Clarke looked up again she saw Lexa staring at her curiously, head tilted to one side, green eyes glinting in the glow as the fire threw her features in to waves of shadow and light.

Aden grumbled again, snapping the two girls back to reality. Lexa stepped passed her, heading towards the double doors into the kitchen as Clarke sank into the chair. She smiled and nodded as Octavia and Lincoln talked to her, answered briefly when addressed, but her thoughts continually returned to the girl who had captured her imagination so quickly. The one who made her heart flutter and her breath catch. Who made her feel cautious and reckless all at once. She realised she couldn’t wait any longer. 

When Lexa returned half an hour later she perched herself on the arm of Clarke’s chair and they became absorbed in each other’s company for the rest of the night, Clarke’s shoulder leaning against Lexa’s hip, remaining that way even after Lincoln and Octavia retired to the house next door and a chair sat empty next to them. 

They talked of everything of anything. The law firm where Lexa worked and some of the more interesting cases that had passed her desk in the past three years. She spoke about surfing and about her dream as a kid to go pro before she blew out her knee. Clarke recalled some of the most dramatic and hilarious stories from the hospital, and made Lexa laugh in amazement and shock with accounts from her time in college where she shared an apartment with Octavia and their friend Raven.

At 1am they realised there were only three people left around the ebbing fire, Anya, Niko and another person that Clarke didn’t recognise. 

“I should go,” she said, standing up and stifling a small yawn. She’d only slept for a few hours between her shift and the barbeque and she could feel it catching up on her now. 

“Thanks for coming,” said Lexa, standing with her. “And for yesterday, and for tomorrow. God you must be getting sick of my family.”

“I don’t see that ever happening,” smiled Clarke, resting a hand reassuringly on Lexa’s upper arm. 

“Just give it time,” replied Lexa, mirroring the smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow? Octavia knows the spot, Lincoln’s brought her surfing there before.”  
“You’re going to walk me home?” asked Clarke in mock indignation. “And here I thought you knew how to treat a lady.”

Lexa grinned broadly. “Of course,” she said, with small bow. “How could I possibly allow you to walk that 50 feet alone and in the dark. I apologise.” She offered her arm to Clarke who hooked her own around it, locking their elbows together. 

“You’re forgiven,” she chuckled graciously, as Lexa led them towards the side gate, dropping Clarke’s arm to allow them to step more easily over the low wall that separated the two houses. 

Within twenty seconds they were standing in front of Clarke’s back door, the light in the kitchen just about offsetting the darkness as it splintered through the blinds pulled across the sliding glass doors. 

“Well thank you for seeing me safely home,” joked Clarke, turning to face Lexa. “And for tonight, I had a lot of fun.” 

“The least I could do for the woman who saved me from hours in the emergency room,” replied Lexa. “I’ll see you in the morning Clarke.” She waited, clearly expecting Clarke to return the goodbye. 

Clarke hesitated, thrumming with anticipation. 

Jump. 

She stepped closer Lexa so that they were almost touching, watching as Lexa’s eyes widened in recognition before dropping briefly to Clarke’s lips. Clarke leaned forward, pausing briefly when they were just an inch apart to give Lexa time to pull away.

It was impossible to discern who kissed who, both of them pushing forward at the same time, unable to wait any longer. 

Clarke’s body flooded with relief when Lexa’s lips moved softly against her own, finally feeling Lexa pressed against her. Her right hand came to rest against Lexa’s jaw, her left hand stilling on her side, just below her ribcage. Lexa’s hands rested lightly on Clarke’s hips. 

It was slow and gentle, lips fitting together perfectly as they found their rhythm. Clarke stepped further into Lexa, pushing their bodies flush against one another. She felt the fingers on her waist press into her soft skin as Lexa exhaled through her nose at the added contact. Clarke could feel herself unravelling into the kiss, getting lost in the feeling of Lexa’s lips pushing and pulling against her own. Heat was building throughout her body and she knew she was close to breaking point. 

She pulled back slightly, forehead resting against Lexa’s for a moment as they both tried to regain their balance. 

“See you tomorrow,” she whispered, as quietly as she could so as not to break the calmness and intimacy between them. Lexa leaned in and kissed her once more, then dropped her hands from her side as they finally opened their eyes. 

“Goodnight Clarke,” she whispered back, just as softly. 

Clarke turned and pushed open the door, moving inside and out of sight, and when she climbed into bed a few minutes later it was with a smile stretching her tingling lips.


	7. Chapter 7

“Lexa, you’re being ridiculous.”

Lexa sighed resignedly. “Look, Anya, I won’t rush things with Clarke. It’s complicated. She’s best friends with Lincoln’s girlfriend. She’s your next door neighbour. If it all craps out things could just be so awkward.”

“And if you piss around for too long and don’t ask her out she’ll think you’re not interested and find someone else. Pretty blonde doctors tend not to be short of suitors,” said Anya, waving a hand in exasperation. 

Lexa didn’t respond, but pulled tightly on the cords securing the surfboards to the bed of her truck. She pushed against the boards making sure that they wouldn’t move during the drive. It was only seven in the morning but Aden had had her and Anya up since five thirty, bouncing round the house to check and recheck he had everything he needed for his first ‘grown up’ surf lesson. They weren’t meeting at the beach for another hour, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to contain Aden’s excitement. The six year old had already strapped himself into his booster seat, fully dressed in swim shorts and rash guard despite how uncomfortable it must be. Clarke’s car was still in the driveway next door. The beach was only a fifteen minute drive away and they really didn’t need to leave yet but it had become very clear that Lexa and Anya had no choice in the matter. As they pulled out of the driveway they could practically feel him vibrating with in the backseat, little legs kicking the back of Anya’s seat. 

Even so early on a Monday morning the beach carpark was dotted with cars, a mixture of people trying to get in a surf before work and school and college kids hoping to beat the heat that would build throughout the day. The spot that they were headed to was a 15 minute walk down the shoreline and, as it turned out, that was closer to half an hour with Aden insisting that he carry his own board, despite having to stop every few yards to readjust his grip. 

When the red faced and out of breath boy was finally told they had arrived he dropped his board and flopped to the ground, sprawled out like a dried up starfish. Anya cast Lexa and amused look. 

“Well, I guess if Aden’s too tired to surf we could always just go home,” she said, laughing loudly when her son shot to his feet in protest. 

Over the next half hour they talked Aden through the basics he would need for his first lesson: how to be safe in the water; the kind of conditions that were best for surfing; how to keep his board and equipment in good order. Aden then lay down on his board in the sand as Anya demonstrated how to pop up and stand on the board, Lexa walking around him correcting his stance and balance. These were all things that Aden had a general idea about, having grown up surrounded by surfers, but his enthusiasm for getting every little detail as perfect as he could was palpable. They were just about finished when Lincoln, Octavia and Clarke appeared, carrying their boards and chatting animatedly amongst themselves. 

Lexa felt herself blush slightly as Clarke shot her a radiant smile. Their kiss the night before, as brief as it was, had been on repeat in her thoughts since it happened. The softness of Clarke’s lips, the feel of their bodies pressed together, of cautious touches and barely contained nerves. And now Clarke was smiling at her, golden hair radiating in the sun, sparkling blue eyes putting the ocean to shame, and Lexa honestly didn’t know how she was going to survive the day. 

As the stitches in Lexa’s hand prevented her from surfing she was going to have to cheer Aden on from the beach while Anya and Lincoln gave him his first lesson in the water on his very own board. She was crouched down in the sand, strapping the leash of Aden’s surf board around his ankle. When the velcro was secure she made to stand, eyes lifting in time to see Clarke, standing a few feet across from her, torso bare and stretched as she pulled her shirt over her head. Lexa felt her stomach jolt and as her eyes dropped down the length of Clarke’s body, lost in the sight of the smooth expanse of skin exposed. She barely even registered that Clarke’s shorts were the next to go, leaving her standing in just her bikini. Lexa couldn’t think as waves of heat crashed through her, up her neck to make her face burn, down her limbs to make her feet and hands tingle. Her eyes roamed back up Clarke’s body, over long legs, over a toned, slightly tanned stomach, over the swell of her breasts that made the air stick in Lexa’s lungs. Oh. 

She didn’t register Clarke’s movements as she bent down to pull the rashguard out of her bag until suddenly they were at eye level, blue locked with green. Oh.

All Lexa could do was stare, brain still stuck on the image of Clarke in a bikini and preventing her from looking away. They stayed there, both crouched in the sand, just looking at each other. And then the corner of Clarke’s mouth turned upwards, followed by an eyebrow, and Lexa cleared her throat loudly, exhaling the breath she did not know she was holding in. She felt a wide grin relax her features before standing to allow Aden to pick up his board and charge into the water after Anya and Lincoln.

They all stayed close to him for the first while, standing in water that came to their waist, clapping and yelling loudly whenever he managed to stay on his board or pop himself up successfully. Lincoln, Octavia and Clarke then paddled out in search of some waves as Anya stayed with Aden. The loud laughter coming from the two of them spilled onto the beach where Lexa stood, watching proudly and itching to join them. 

After almost an hour Aden joined her on the shore, little limbs too tired to continue. 

“Well done, buddy,” she grinned, wrapping the beaming boy in a bear hug. “You did so, so well.”

“Do you think I’ll be as good as you guys some day?” he asked, dropping his board on the sand and plonking unceremoniously down next to it. 

“Way better!” nodded Lexa, confidently. “You’re a natural. And you’re starting way younger than any of us did. If you practice enough, you’ll be the best in the family in a few years.”

Aden was positively glowing at Lexa’s encouragement as she sat next to him, digging her feet into the warm sand as the two of them watched the rest of their group. Octavia was clearly an excellent surfer, hitting large waves confidently and riding them for as long as she could. But Clarke, she was something else entirely. Lexa thought she must have been built to surf, attacking the swell effortlessly and alternating between complicated tricks and calmly letting the waves take her wherever they wanted. She was mesmerising, and Lexa just could not take her eyes off her. 

By the time the others set foot back on the beach Lexa and Aden had just about finished building a rather impressive sandcastle, Lexa doing most of her share one handed to avoid getting sand in her bandage and thoughts wandering repeatedly back toward Clarke.

They had to pack up somewhat quickly so that Octavia and Lincoln could make it home in time to shower and change before they had to be at the station for their shift. Anya tucked Aden’s small board easily under her other arm as Lincoln hoisted the boy onto his broad shoulders. As they began walking back toward the car park Lexa slowed a little to fall into step beside Clarke. The two hadn’t had a chance to speak all morning, not alone at least. 

“So,” said Clarke, smiling at her, “how is it that a big shot lawyer is able to go surfing on a Monday morning?”

“I don’t know if ‘big shot’ is the right word,” grinned Lexa. “The Summer is always the quietest time in the firm. I work more flexible hours and from home a lot when the weathers good, it kind of balances out all the overtime we have to do during busy season. Plus Aden’s off school and Anya’s off work, so it's nice to not be working so much. And I can can surf as much as I want. Well, usually anyway,” she added ruefully, looking down at her hand.

“What does Anya do?” asked Clarke, shifting her board under her arm. Lexa reached out and wordlessly took the bag in Clarke’s other hand, earning a grateful smile. 

“She’s a teacher,” said Lexa. “It pretty perfect now that Aden’s in school too.”

“It’s lovely how close you guys are,” smiled Clarke. “I always wished I had brothers or sisters, I think you miss out a little being an only child.”

“That depends on your brothers and sisters,” Lexa remarked. “I know plenty of siblings that can’t stand each other.”

“True, and I guess Octavia and her brother were as good as family anyway. Between them and Raven I basically got the benefit of three sets of parents.”

“Raven?” asked Lexa, not recognising the name. 

“She’s O and I’s best friend. We all grew up together, went to the same schools, lived together in college. She’s working in Paris working with the European Space Agency at the moment, but she’s moving back home in a couple of weeks. She’s taking the spare room in our house. I may not have told her that it’s the one next to Octavia’s and that she’ll have a front row aural seat to the sex opera that is Octavia and -”

“Clarke please,” groaned Lexa with a grimace. “I do not need to hear about my brother’s sexcapades.”

“Hey,” said Clarke, raising her free hand in defense, “you must get your fair share when they stay over at your apartment. O is not exactly shy in the sack.”

“Lincoln bought me some excellent noise cancelling headphones as a peace offering after the first time they spent the night,” said Lexa, chest bubbling at the burst of laughter she elicited from Clarke. Lexa got lost again in the sight of her, head thrown back in amusement, wet hair dripping down the back of her shirt, looking light and happy and full of life. 

“Go out with me?”

Clarke turned her head to to Lexa, looking surprised to see that she had stopped walking and was now a few steps behind her. 

“What?” she asked, turning to face her. 

“Will you-do you- want to go on a date. With me?” asked Lexa, rapidly losing confidence as her brain caught up with her mouth. Her stupid mouth. Clarke was looking at her and Lexa was starting to feel slightly sick. She had absolutely not meant to rush this. 

“I’m free tonight,” said Clarke, snapping Lexa out of her downward spiral of panic and embarrassment. There was a slight flush to Clarke’s cheeks that made her heart skip a beat. 

“Tonight sounds great,” replied Lexa softly, trying to suppress the dopey grin that was shaping her lips. 

They fell into step with each other again, walking closer this time, not bothering to try to catch up with the others who had nearly reached the cars. 

“So,” asked Clarke, bumping her shoulder against Lexa playfully. “Where are we going on this date?”

“A little bit of mystery never hurt anybody Clarke.”

“You don’t know yet do you?” asked Clarke, eyebrow raised. 

“To be honest, I didn’t really plan on asking you out today,” replied Lexa, ducking her head slightly. 

“What changed?”

“I apparently lose all self-restraint around you,” said Lexa, surprised by her own honesty.

“I think I like the sound of that,” replied Clarke, and Lexa couldn’t ignore the way her voice had become lower, gravellier. It sent a blaze of heat through the bottom of her stomach and she wetted her lips unconsciously. “Do I get to know what time I should be ready?”

“I need to work for a few hours when I get home,” said Lexa, “does seven work for you?”

 

“Sounds good,” smiled Clarke, and then, faltering a little, “do you think maybe we can keep this between us for the moment? I think it might…over complicate things if they all know,” she nodded toward the group ahead of them who were now loading surfboards onto their cars.

“Afraid I won’t live to expectations?” asked Lexa, a look of faux offense on her face. 

“Quite the opposite, Ms Woods.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I solemnly swear to update more quickly*
> 
> *attempt to


	8. Chapter 8

Clarke looked down as her phone pinged in her hand, chewing her lips as she opened the text from Lexa. 

Lexa: Ok, I think I’ve come up with a solid plan for tonight.   
Clarke: Aren’t u meant to be working?  
Lexa: I seem to be a little more distracted than usual…  
Clarke: Oh really, why’s that?   
Lexa: I have a date with a beautiful doctor tonight, and I can’t think about anything else.

Clarke smiled dopily, her stomach fluttering. Smooth. She was feeling both giddy and slightly shy at this very flirty version of Lexa. 

Clarke: You seem a lot more confident than when you were asking me out on said date   
Lexa: What can I say, I’m always better in writing.  
Clarke: Nerd. So do I get to know what this plan is?  
Lexa: Just for that, you don’t.   
Clarke: Do I get to know what I should wear?

[Lexa is typing]...[Lexa is typing]...[Lexa is typing]

Lexa: Super casual.   
Clarke: Casual I can do. I’ll meet you at yours if you pin drop the address?  
Lexa sent a location  
Lexa: Are you sure I can’t pick you up?   
Clarke: And when Anya sees you pick me up she won’t be at all suspicious?  
Lexa: Ugh, you and your logic. It feels very unromantic.  
Clarke: Trying to romance me huh? You can make it up to me later  
Lexa: I plan on it. See you at 7 doc  
Clarke: See you at 7, nerd 

Clarke threw her phone onto the couch and fell down beside it, pulling a pillow into her lap and letting her head drop back to rest on the cushion behind her. Everything was moving so fast. She hadn’t expected to develop of crush on her neighbours sister. She hadn’t expected that crush to grow so quickly in what felt like actually feelings. She didn’t plan on kissing her goodnight yesterday or dreaming about her all night. She hadn’t expected Lexa to ask her on a date that morning. But here she was, nerves and excitement bubbling through her as she thought about spending a whole evening alone with Lexa. Lexa. The girl that made Clarke’s pulse race, made her skin blush, her legs tremble. Who she couldn’t get out of her head. 

She thought about that smile that screamed softness and mischievousness at the same time. How her eyes seemed to change colour depending on the light or what she was talking about, going from hazel to blue to the clearest green. The long mane of hair that when down framed her face beautifully and when pulled pack highlighted her sharp jawline and long, elegant neck. She thought about those small chuckles. Those bashful giggles. Those loud, infectious laughs. That soft skin. That defined stomach. Those lips. 

Clarke closed her eyes and traced the tips of her fingers lightly across her hip. There was no way she was going to make it through this date without losing it, not if she stayed this tightly wound. She slipped her hand under the waistband of her shorts and past her bikini, not in the least surprised to feel how wet she was. She had felt her arousal building in her all day, from the moment she bent down to pick up her rashguard and saw Lexa staring at her with what could only be described as total hunger. 

She used her other hand to move her shorts down a little further, allowing her finger to push deeper into her, toes curling against the rug at her feet and eyes closing as she spread her legs further apart. She entered a second finger only to pull both out and glide them easily across her clit, all cohesive thoughts disappearing as the feeling took control of her entirely. She quickened her movements, two fingers rubbing in tight circles, alternating between gentle touches and firmer pressure. She could feel her body constricting within seconds, and guided her fingers back inside. There was no way cumming that quickly would settle her the way she needed. She pumped her fingers slowly, thrusting her hips up slightly to adjust the angle. The pressure in her belly started to build again and she moved her other hand down to rub her clit again as the fingers inside her pressed against that perfect spot. Her back arched off couch as came, letting out a soft, guttural moan. 

She exhaled through her nose, sinking back into the cushions as she waited for her heart rate to return to normal. She pulled her hand out of her shorts and stood, wiping her fingers on the inside of her bikini bottoms as she did so. 

She glanced back down at her phone. It was hours before she needed to leave for her date and knew she would have to distract herself somehow. Moving into her bedroom she discarded her clothes and grabbed a towel before padding into the en suite. She turned on the shower, waiting a minute for it to warm up before she stepped under the water. The heat was soothing, easing her muscles that had begun to tighten as they always did after surfing and it took three rounds of shampooing before all traces of salt water were rinsed from her hair. She couldn’t remember the last time she spent this long in the shower. More often than not she was bolting out the door on her way to the hospital or so tired after a long shift that she barely had the energy to drag herself into the bathroom to wash off the day. 

Clarke loved her job. She’d worked hard for years, all through school and college, to achieve her dream of becoming a doctor only to take on even further study to specialise in pediatrics. At 26 she was one of the youngest doctors practicing in her field, something that had not gone unnoticed by her colleagues and peers. Her self-imposed and gruelling work schedule was the reason she had been able accomplish so much so young and long hours and sleepless nights went hand in hand with that. Now that fully qualified however her work load was starting to ease, no longer having to balance work and exams. If she hadn’t insisted on doing so much research surrounding each of her cases she could have quite a civilised working week, but doing things by halves was never Clarke’s style. 

As she stepped out of the shower she allowed her mind to wander briefly to how Lexa would be able to cope with her lifestyle. She had said that she herself worked plenty of overtime during the year and Clarke had no doubt that Lexa was equally committed to her own work. From the way Anya and Lincoln talked about her, it was clear that Lexa was a highly regarded lawyer. How could two demanding careers with equally long hours allow for a relationship, especially a new one. She forced those thoughts out of her mind as quickly as they arose. Too soon. 

Too soon to be second guessing the practicalities of something that had barely begun. Too soon to be thinking up problems when her body still tingled at the thought of Lexa and stomach flooded with heat at the sight of her. 

Clarke knew there was only one thing that she could do to try and contain the nervous energy crashing around her. Wrapping her towel around her and securing it in place she grabbed the brush sitting on her sink and ran it quickly through her tangled hair. Then, back in her bedroom, she sat down on her stool, taking the half finished painting off her easel and laying carefully down on the cloth covered floor. She had been working on the piece for weeks, a detailed recreation of a beautiful mountain-sea landscape that she had photographed in the spring. Today was not the day for focused and meticulous work though, so she picked up a fresh canvas and settled it on the easel in front of her. 

Painting was similar to surfing in many ways. At one time it could be a goal-orientated exercise, an attempt to master a skill with a definitive destination in mind. At another, it was all about the journey, the feeling of letting your body take you wherever it pleases, allowing an uncontrolled energy to move you, to relieve you of any choice, of any responsibility. To become unaware of time or thoughts or anything but the water under your board or the brush between your fingers. It was the perfect way to take her mind off all things Lexa. 

Hours later she shook off her paint-induced haze and stood back, examining her work. The painting was a total contradiction. She had started with the ocean and it was all big strokes and strong colours. Greens and blues crashing into peaks of white that jumped off the canvas and drew the eye. But then it started to soften, as though you could trace the energy of the painter through the patterns of the brush. The riotess sea blended into outlines of muted mountains, set against a backdrop of pastel tones of a calm sky tinged with pinks and oranges from the sun dropping beyond the horizon. 

Clarke rolled her shoulders, rotating her neck to ease the stiffness that had crept up over hours of sitting. It wasn’t exactly a masterpiece but it had done its job and she felt far more relaxed that she had earlier. Instead of nerves she felt a growing excitement at the prospect of spending a whole evening alone with Lexa, getting to know her. Maybe even kissing her again. She couldn’t remember a time when she had ever fallen so hard this quickly, not even with Finn. Compared to Lexa, Finn felt inconsequential. Unimportant, a passing heartache. 

Looking over at her alarm clock Clarke noticed with a jolt that it was past 5pm. The next hour was spent scrubbing paint off her fingers and arms and pulling out every item in her wardrobe. Casual. Casual should be easy, but right now Clarke couldn’t seem to remember what clothes she normally wears when she’s not in scrubs. She inevitably settled on jeans, light blue and slightly ripped around the knees, with flip flops and a loose white tank top patterned with small zebras. She grabbed her favourite blue and yellow flannel for later in the evening when the temperature outside would drop a little, or incase they were somewhere overly air-conditioned. 

She rarely wore much makeup, especially during the summer when it was likely melt off your face anyway, so opted for her usual slightly-smokey eye look and subtle lipstick. Her hair had dried into natural waves and she flipped her head over, scrunching a dollop of mousse through it to combat any frizz. She strapped on her watch and slipped on her rings before giving herself a final once over in the wardrobe mirror. You got this. 

She was too early when she pulled up outside Lexa’s apartment and she could feel those nerves starting to creep back under her skin. She sat in her car, looking at her watch, tapping the steering wheel and bouncing her knee. Her insides were caught in a raging battle between her absolute desire to see Lexa and to run away because it was all just a little bit too much. 

When the minute hand on her watch finally hit twelve she sucked in a breath and stepped out of her car. Lexa’s apartment was on a quiet enough road along a row of identical buildings. They were two story terraced brick houses with one door at ground level and a flight of steps leading to the door above. She walked up the steps, raising her fist and hesitating for only a moment before rapping lightly on the door. It swung open almost immediately and Clarke eyes raked over the girl in front of her. 

Lexa wore black toms and tight black jeans that looked to Clarke as though they must have been painted on to her legs. A denim shirt framed her torso perfectly, sleeves rolled back halfway up her forearms. Her whole body screamed athlete. She didn’t look thin, but rather defined and beautifully strong. Her long hair was pulled over one shoulder, her eyes wide and her lips parted in a way that made her look slightly parted. 

“Hi,” said Clarke softly, feeling rather proud that she had forced out any sound at all.   
Lexa didn’t reply and after a few moments Clarke shifted slightly on her feet.   
“You ok there? You - you kind of look like you’ve never seen me before,” she said, laughing a little awkwardly. 

“I haven’t,” came the reply, barely more than a whisper. And then, as if Lexa was coming out of some kind of daze, she shook her head slightly and cleared her throat. “Not like this.”

“Like, like what?” asked Clarke, feeling immensely confused at the stunned look on Lexa’s face. 

“Here for me.” 

And before Clarke could begin to work out what the hell she meant Lexa was stepping forward, finding Clarke’s lips with her own. Clarke was so surprised that it took a second for her brain to catch up, but when it did her hands moved quickly to rest on the back of Lexa’s neck, just as Lexa’s hands settled on Clarke’s hips. She stepped forward, pressing herself further into Lexa, tilting her head slightly. Her heart was pounding so furiously she thought it might give out at any moment, and the desire that swept through her made her whole body feel simultaneously numb and on fire. Her stomach swooped, like that feeling you get on a rollercoaster that crashing toward the ground at breakneck speed. The softness of Lexa’s lips contrasted perfectly with the firmness of the kiss, feeling gentle but determined at the same time. With great effort Clarke managed to restrain herself from deepening the kiss, from pushing Lexa against the wall and letting her lips and fingers run across all those places that they desperately wanted to explore. 

Lexa was the first to pull away and as close as they were standing, arms still circled around each other, Clarke couldn’t help but notice the flush on Lexa’s cheeks. 

“Sorry,” she breathed, looking suddenly embarrassed. “I-I didn’t mean to I-I’ve just been thinking about doing that all day.” She was starting to look almost scared. 

Clarke didn’t respond, leaning up slightly to recapture Lexa’s lips. She felt the hitch in Lexa’s breath more than she heard it as they relaxed into each other. Lips met again and again, each of them alternating between pushing forward and allowing the other to do the same, battling for control and happy to relinquish it. Clarke felt Lexa’s fingers press into her hips and she instantly pulled Lexa further into her, bodies flushing together. As if a spark shot through them they pulled away breathing deeply, resting their foreheads together, eyes still closed. 

“Is this our thing now?” asked Clarke, voice trembling and hands stills clasped around the back of Lexa’s neck, gently scratching the her fingers along the soft skin there. “Kissing on doorsteps.”

“God, I hope so,” whispered Lexa, brushing her nose softly against Clarke’s.


	9. Chapter 9

As it turns out, making out within thirty seconds of your first date is a wonderful idea. Lexa had been psyching herself up for the date all day, getting almost no work done at all despite sitting at her laptop for hours. After a rather cliché pep talk in front of her mirror she thought that she had mastered her herself. But then she opened the door to Clarke and it was like the whole world flipped on its head. 

She looked beautiful, but she always looked beautiful so that was not a surprise. She looked nervous, but then again everyone was nervous on a first date. Lexa had been prepared for all those things. What Lexa hadn’t been prepared for, or rather what she didn’t know she had to prepare for, was the feeling of knowing that Clarke was standing there, looking beautiful and nervous, just for her. There was no other event, no one else, no other reason for Clarke to be standing at her door but for the fact that she wanted to spend time with Lexa. To go on a date with Lexa. The realisation swooped through her leaving her absolutely stunned and probably looking totally stupid. 

Her lips were on Clarke’s before she even realised her body had started moving. She was about to pull away and apologise profusely when she felt Clarke’s fingers on the back of her neck and the intimacy of it bolted through Lexa’s body like an electrical current. She felt the kiss everywhere: on her lips, where their skin connected, the tips of her fingers as they pressed into Clarke’s hips, pulling her closer. 

As they sat in Lexa’s truck on the way to their mystery destination she could still feel the aftershocks pulse through her. The kiss seemed to have done wonders to take the edge off their nerves, while still leaving them with shy glances and little smiles - all the good, exciting, exhilarating parts about first date jitters. The conversation flowed easily, Clarke trying to figure out where they were going and Lexa resolutely refusing to give away any hints.

“You know,” said Clarke about fifteen minutes into the drive, “now that I think about it this might not have been my best decision. Getting in the car with a girl I hardly know who bringing me to a secret location and not telling a single other person where I was going or who was I with. My mother would be horrified.”

Lexa grinned, “It’s ok, mothers love me.”

“Even when you’re trying to seduce their daughters?” quipped Clarke. 

“Well we tend to avoid that topic of conversation,” said Lexa, blushing slightly. “We’re here anyway,” she added as they pulled off the road and down a narrow laneway. 

“A drive-in?” exclaimed Clarke, swivelling her head to read the sign as they drove past it. “That’s so cool! I didn’t even know there was one here!”

Lexa smiled at her enthusiasm, relieved that Clarke didn’t find the idea a little lame. “It’s only here for two weeks, I think it’s kind of a word of mouth thing. I thought it might be a cool alternative to sitting in a movie theatre for a couple of hours.” 

The laneway was lined with tall trees on either side and as they came around a bend they saw the cinema screen off to the right, stretched fifty feet between two trees. The clearing in front of it was already dotted with cars parked just far back enough to get a decent view. 

“Um, Lexa?” 

Lexa laughed at the confusion in Clarke’s voice as she reversed her truck into the space, facing away from the screen. “Just wait here a sec,” she said as she hopped out of her truck and disappeared. A minute later she was back at the passenger door, opening it and holding out a hand to Clarke who took it graciously as she jumped out of the truck. Lexa’s breath hitched slightly as smooth, delicate fingers slid across her palm, squeezing her hand briefly in thanks before dropping it. 

“Holy crap!” gasped Clarke as Lexa led her round to the back of the truck where the bed was stacked from corner to corner with blankets and pillows, a six pack of beer and a pile of snacks in one corner. Clarke pulled herself up so that she was sitting amongst the blankets. 

“Oh my god, is there and air mattress under here?” asked Clarke, pushing down with her hands.

“Yep,” replied Lexa, hoisting herself up after Clarke and crawling forward so that she could lean back against the rear windscreen. “ It seemed like a more comfortable option that sitting on the metal for two hours.” 

“This is like, the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” said Clarke, sitting down next to Lexa. “You’re just full of surprises Woods.”

“I’m not done yet,” grinned Lexa, bumping her should playfully against Clarke’s. 

“I feel like you may have set the bar a little high here. I don’t know how I’ll be able to top this.”

Lexa chest swelled at that. “You seem very confident that there will be a second date,” she said, trying to hide her excitement.

Clarke turned her head to look at her, eyebrow quirked and smile soft. “Oh, I am,” she replied, and the slight huskiness to her voice sent a shiver up Lexa’s spine. Clarke leant forward, tilting her head up to press her lips to Lexa’s. It was short and sweet and so tender that Lexa just wanted to fall into the kiss, wrap herself in Clarke and open herself wide. 

“Thank you,” Clarke added, pulling back slightly and pushing a wayward strand of hair behind Lexa’s ear, hand resting lightly on her cheek. “For all of this.” Lexa couldn’t help but lean into the touch, eyes fluttering closed again. 

“Lexa?” The warmth of Clarke’s hand was gone and Lexa straightened quickly, turning to look over her shoulder to the guy standing beside the truck.

“Oh you found us!” she said, trying to clear the disappointed from her voice at the interruption as she pulled a twenty out of her pocket and handed it to him, taking the box that the held out in return. “Thanks Titus, I owe you one.” 

“Always a pleasure,” he grinned, glancing over Lexa’s shoulder. “Have a good evening, Commander,” he winked before turning around and disappearing out of sight. 

“Lexa...did you seriously order pizza to a drive-in movie?”

“Ye-p,” she answered, popping the ‘p’ as she flipped open the lid of the pizza box and slid it into Clarke’s lap before reaching over and popping open two bottles of beer, handing one to Clarke. 

“Fuck,” said Clarke, shaking her head as she took the beer, sounded somewhere between impressed and exasperated. “You’re like, a first date ninja. How did you even get them to deliver here? We’re in the middle of a forest!”

“I played football with Titus in high school,” she explained, picking a slice out of the box. “He was a Freshman when I was Captain and was more than happy to help me out when I explained I was trying to impress a beautiful woman.” She couldn’t help but feel slightly proud at the blush tinging Clarke’s cheeks. 

“You were football Captain?” asked Clarke, sounding intrigued. 

Lexa opened her mouth to reply but the words died on her lips when Clarke took the first bite of pizza and let out a low moan of appreciation, eyes closing just long enough to give Lexa a chance to pick her jaw up off the floor. Fucking Hell. This woman was the most effortlessly, casually sexy person that Lexa had ever met and a she would do anything to hear that sound again. 

The speakers around them kicked into life, drawing their attention back towards the screen as the opening credits of ‘Rebel without a Cause’ started to roll, offering a reprieve to a very flustered Lexa. When the pizza was gone Clarke moved to place the empty box to the foot of the truck, and Lexa’s eyes absolutely did not drop down to the strip of skin on her lower back that was exposed as she leant forward. Absolutely not. Lexa had far more control than that. Something she repeated to herself over and over again as Clarke sat back again, shuffling slightly so that her left leg and shoulder rested just slightly against Lexa right and giving her one more small smile before looking back to the screen. 

Lexa had never been so acutely aware of her own body. Heavy breaths rattled through her lungs, and the more she concentrated on calming the rise and fall of her chest the louder those breaths became. She was certain that the slamming of her heart against her ribs would disturb the people sitting in the car ten feet away. Her skin burned and the parts of her that were pressed against Clarke felt like they might actually burst into flame at any moment. The palms of her hands were clammy as she rested them awkwardly on her legs, feeling like every movement was sharp and clumsy and betray her to Clarke. She thanked every deity she could think off as the sun sank lower behind the trees and the air around them cooled. After twenty minutes of torture her shoulders were starting to hurt and the tendons in her neck so tense that it was giving her a headache. 

She jumped slightly when she felt something graze her leg, breaking her from her swirling, spiralling thoughts. Looking down she saw Clarke’s hand had moved so that it was right next to Lexa’s while still resting on her own thigh. Lexa moved her own hand ever so slightly, chest pounding as Clarke’s little finger twitched before wrapping around Lexa’s. Lexa looked back to the screen, teeth digging into her bottom lip to try and restrain the grin spreading across her face. She sank back slowly against the back of the truck, allowing her shoulders to relax against the pillows behind her. The feeling of Clarke’s baby finger linked with her own seemed to ground her, quieten her thoughts and allow her to just be there, sitting in her truck at a drive-in next to the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

It was dark now, the only light coming from the images flashing in front of them. A light breeze had started to pick up and out of the corner of her eye Lexa could see Clarke pulling her shirt tighter across her chest. She bent to her left, reluctantly dislodging her finger from Clarke’s as she reached out to pull some of the blankets across them. Before she could overthink it she slid her palm across Clarke’s, locking their fingers together under the blankets and when Clarke leant over and pressed a soft kiss on Lexa’s cheek Lexa couldn’t help but hold her hand a little bit tighter.

She looked at Clarke. Her features were muted by the darkness but the sparkle of her eyes was all Lexa need to see. She tilted forward slowly, stopping when her lips grazed Clarke’s, feeling warm breath ghost across her skin. Clarke did the rest, capturing Lexa’s bottom lip gently between her own before pulling back again just slightly. Lexa chased, pushing forward again, her left hand coming up to rest on Clarke’s jaw while her thumb brushed over her cheek, right hand pressed against the mattress below them, supporting her weight as she turned her body toward Clarke. Clarke’s left arm did the same, her right hand settling on Lexa’s thigh. 

They moved slowly against each other, more gentle than before, as though they had all the time in the world to explore each other, to taste each other. Each time Clarke kissed her the tip of her tongue traced the smallest of touches over Lexa’s bottom lip. Lexa parted her lips slightly so that the tip of her own tongue met Clarke’s, both of them exhaling deeply at the new sensation. The angle at which they sat prevented either of them from deepening the kiss but Lexa could feel the fingers on her thigh grip tighter just as she pulled Clarke closer to her. The extra contact was barely there, the faintest press of tongue against tongue, but it Lexa couldn’t suppress the tiny, breathy moan that rose from her throat. And because everything seemed to be going her way tonight, it was barely discernible from the sound that emanated from Clarke. 

The rumble of engines and flicker of headlights pulled them back to their surroundings as they parted only slightly, hands still tangled in one another. 

“I guess the movies over,” breathed Lexa, a smile breaking across her face. 

“Damn,” Clarke chuckled as she sat up straighter and pulled down her top which has started to rise up her waist. “I was really enjoying that.”

“Oh I’m not done with you yet, Griffin.”


	10. Chapter 10

Her heart was still racing as they got back into the car and she couldn’t help but steal glances at the girl sitting next to her. The kiss had started off innocently enough but the feeling that coursed through her as her tongue met Lexa’s was like a shot of adrenaline that still pumped through her veins. Her knee bounced as she sat in the passenger seat, and she tried to focus on the tangible, physical things around her instead of her own thoughts. Thoughts of kissing Lexa, of pinning her down in the back of the truck and kissing her unreservedly, nothing holding them back, pressing against her. 

She didn’t want to ruin whatever this was by rushing things but, damn, Lexa made that so hard. Clarke watched at her as she drove, a perfect side profile as Lexa looked out toward the road, unaware of Clarke’s roaming stare. Her hair was pulled over her other shoulder, exposing the sharp line of her collarbone, her long neck leading to the distinct curve of her jaw line. The corner of her mouth that was visible was tilted upwards, a contented kind of barely there smile. Her lips seemed even darker and fuller than usual and Clarke wondered how she could be made of so many angles and lines while still looking so soft and warm. 

But the thing the drew the most attention was her eyes. Even though Clarke could only see a fraction from where she sat, those eyes had been etched into her mind from the moment she met Lexa, making her fingers itch with the need to paint, to sketch, to immortalise them on a canvas other than Lexa. They were large and almond shaped, softened by thick dark lashes and graceful brows that pulled the flecks of brown out of her pupil. They glinted when she smiled, flashed when goaded by Anya or Lincoln, softened when she looked at Aden, darkened when she looked Clarke. And every single one of those looks make Clarke weak at the knees. 

“So where to next?” she asked, very much in favour of extending their time together. 

“I thought I’d stick with the cliches and suggest a walk on the beach,” grinned Lexa, casting a quick look at Clarke before returning her focus to the road. 

“I don’t know if I’d describe anything about this date as a cliche. The drive-in was definitely something different, and I’m pretty sure people don’t make out this much on first date.” Lexa bit her lip at that and Clarke had to fight back a groan. She was so helplessly, hopelessly turned on and it was starting to get uncomfortable. She shifted a little in her seat. 

They pulled in at a small layby alongside the sand dunes and Clarke was almost scrambling to get out into the fresh air and away from the stifling, tempting proximity of the truck. They kicked off their shoes and threw them into the back of the truck before setting off through the dunes and toward the shoreline. 

The moon was high now, obscuring the brightness of the stars and reflecting across the smooth surface of the ocean. The soft lap of the waves echoed around them, punctuated here and there by the rumble of a car passing along the road away in the distance. The ambled along slowly, shoulders bumping and hands grazing cautiously until Clarke felt fingers wrap gently around her own. She moved her hand so that their fingers intertwined and swore that she heard a whispered sigh of relief from beside her. 

They spoke quietly, as though not to disturb the air around them, talking about nothing in particular. These were the conversations that Clarke loved, where she got to learn Lexa through snippets of inconsequential information and passing comments and little tells. The big things were of course important: work, family, hobbies, childhood, but they only drew the shell of a person, the factual, quantifiable, explainable parts. It was the little pieces that made Clarke’s chest swell with warmth, squeeze Lexa’s hand a little bit tighter,make her feel like she was seeing a side of her that only a very privileged and lucky few ever saw. 

She talked faster when she was nervous or excited. She was uncomfortable talking about herself for condensed periods. She downplayed her achievements. She only ate ice cream if at least one scoop was chocolate. She liked old movies, vintage cars, blues from the 50s and 60s. She loved her family more than anything and as intensely protective. Her eyes glinted and mouth twitched when she was feeling mischievous. She was very funny and bitingly sarcastic in a way that was never harsh or pointed. When she looked at Clarke her eyes sparkled and softened round the edges. Her hand was always warm and she mindlessly dragged her thumb across Clarke’s knuckles as though not content with passive contact. She was beautiful.

It was late when they reached the car again and Lexa let go of her hand to retrieve their shoes. 

“So,” asked Lexa as she kicked the truck into life. “How’d I do?” The grin on her face made it clear that she knew the answer. 

“Oh you know,” waved Clarke airly, “just the best first date ever.” And then, softer, turning in the passenger seat to face her, “Thank you Lexa, I really had a great time.”

“Me too,” said Lexa, pulling at her bottom lip with her teeth. “Are you, ahm, are you free again this week?” 

“I have an awful work schedule actually, I’m covering an extra shift so I’m on tomorrow to Saturday.” Lexa nodded understandingly and Clarke continued, “I’m on a day shift on Thursday, maybe we could do lunch if you’re free?”

“Sure,” answered Lexa, flicking her eyes to Clarke before they both looked away, hiding the smiles that were all too big for for planning a second date. They pulled into Lexa’s driveway with plans to meet at a cafe close to the hospital, Lexa insisting that it was better than meeting somewhere halfway as she could take a slightly longer lunch and wasn’t likely to get paged back to the office for an emergency. 

Lexa was out of her seat before Clarke even realised they had stopped, jogging around to open her door before Clarke could even reach for the handle. Clarke rolled her eyes jokingly as she hopped down, Lexa closing the door behind her and leaning up against the side of the truck and looking rather pleased with herself. 

“My hero,” said Clarke sarcastically, earning herself an even wider smirk. 

She allowed herself to look at Lexa properly, standing in front of her, casual and smiling and eyes dropping briefly down to her lips. 

Clarke stepped forward, heart stuttering at the hitch in Lexa’s breath as her back pushed flat against the metal, Clarke leaving the smallest amount of space between them. She rose up onto her toes so that their eyes were level. There was only about three inches in the difference, but there was something in the way Lexa carried herself that made her look far taller than she actually was. There was a brief pause where they simply looked at each other, Clarke feeling the intensity of Lexa’s stare weighing heavily on her bones. She closed the gap, bringing her hands to Lexa’s hips. A moment later she felt warm skin against the back of her neck and her cheek. Their lips moved against each other with ease, as though they’d been doing this for years.

Clarke had always found this stage of a new relationship to be slightly awkward. To be so close to someone that you were still only getting to know, a contradiction of holding back and physically letting going. A kind of touch that was exciting without being intimate, a promise of maybe getting there one day. But this was different. With each kiss she was pouring herself into Lexa, feeling her doing the same. She wanted to be closer to her in every way, to absorb everything the girl was willing to give her. To feel the contours of her lips and her body. A way of knowing what bubbled below the surface. 

Kissing Lexa felt like being pulled to earth, like being grounded, feet on solid soil in a way that made her braver and stronger. When the kiss broke and they leaned into each other, breathing heavily, she could feel herself swirling back up to the stars. 

They moved together again, Clarke pushing forward so that Lexa was flush against her body, pressed hard up against the side of the truck and eliciting a low moan at the contact. Lexa’s hands moved up to tangle in her hair and her shirt shifted up just slightly, enough to allow Clarke’s fingers to trace the exposed skin beneath. The skin was warm and soft under her hands, and she ran her hands up further so they sat just below Lexa’s ribs. Lexa gasped at the touch and Clarke ran her tongue quickly over Lexa’s bottom lip before Lexa pulled her in impossibly closer, running her own tongue over Clarke’s. 

It was like someone had lit a fire in the pit of Clarke’s stomach, and the only way she knew to put it out was to taste as feel as much of Lexa as she could. The kiss deepened as they pulled at each other, hips rolling to chase the contact that wasn’t there, Lexa arching off the truck and Clarke rocking forward on her toes. 

She couldn’t tell who pulled away first, both gasping for air, the heat that was pulsing through her body almost unbearable. She kept her eyes shut, blocking out everything but the sensation of Lexa as she tried to regain some connection to the ground. A soft press against her lips pulled her back, and her eyes fluttered as she leant back to see Lexa with her eyes still closed, bodies still moulded together, rising and falling in tandem. She lifted one hand to stroke gently against Lexa’s cheek, placing a kiss against the corner of her mouth and feeling the skin underneath twist upward. When she pulled back again wide eyes the color of a moonlit forest stared down at her. 

“I should go,” she whispered, not wanting to crack the heart-pounding peacefulness enveloping them. 

“Okay.” Lexa’s voice was thick and heavy and made Clarke want to sink back into her all over again. Neither of them moved, Clarke’s hand still resting on Lexa’s cheek, her thumb gliding gently across her cheekbone. She could feel Lexa lean into the touch before standing a little straighter, hands falling out of her hair, running lightly down Clarke’s back before dropping away completely.

“I’ll see you on Thursday.” One last kiss. 

“Text me when you’re home.” 

Clarke nodded and stepped away, holding back a whine at the loss of contact and Lexa stayed leant up against the truck as Clarke moved to her car, strapping on her seat belt and turning the key. She looked back who Lexa gave a small wave from where she stood, soft smile illuminated just barely by the golden glow of the street lamp. 

She waved back before pulling away from the curb, swirling back towards the stars.


	11. Chapter 11

Lexa sighed as she leant back in her chair, rubbing her face with her hands. A habit that she didn’t even notice anymore but that irked Anya to no end. It was fortunate that she only ever wore very light makeup or it would be a total after a few hours. 

The cost of her three day weekend was strewn across her desk. Folders upon folders of documents and reports that needed her immediate attention. It was going to be a long week, not that she regretted it for a second. Any of it - slicing her hand open on Saturday, spending the whole day with Clarke, Aden’s birthday, kissing Clarke, Aden’s first surf, a date with Clarke. That was a lot to cover in three days. 

She made a valiant effort to pull her mind away from the swirling, bubbly, tingly thoughts of Clarke, pulling a stack of files across her desk and flipping over the top one. It didn’t take her long to find her stride. Her ability to focus on her work to the exclusion of distractions, internal and external, was a key reason as to why she was doing so well in her career. She had never been one to procrastinate, even in college where it was basically an olympic sport. While her friends and classmates put off assignments till the last minute or sat in the library for twelve hours, clicking back and forth between a blank page and facebook, Lexa just got it done. For the first year or so people would make jokes, tell her to chill out, that their paper wasn’t due for a month, that she worked too hard, that she should take time to relax. By the time final year rolled around it became clear that Lexa had been doing it right the whole time. 

It wasn’t that she worked all the time, it was that she was organised and motivated enough for work to be just one aspect of her life that didn’t drag down the rest of it. In college, while everyone was freaking out about finals and deadlines, pulling all nighters and drinking litres of red bull, she was still in her usual routine - study, hit the gym, go surfing, go to work. It was the same now. She new plenty of colleagues around her age and stage that were pulling eighty hour weeks and pretty much chained to their desks. Sure, sometimes her workload was crazy and she had to do the same, but she made sure that that was the exception rather than the rule. And when that happened, she balanced it out by taking a long weekend when things quietened down, or coming in late so she could make up for the surf that she’d missed. It was all about balance she said, when people asked her desperately how she managed it. When she’s in work she’s solely focused on that, getting more done before lunch than most did in a day. But when she wasn’t in work she didn’t think about it, didn’t feel guilt or dread at the thought of the pile on her desk, didn’t get ‘the fear’ on Sunday night. 

Over the next couple of days she fell into a new kind of pattern. She was still as focused as ever when at work, but she couldn’t help but reach for her phone during the day a little more often than usual. She discovered she like the way that Clarke texted, that she could imagine her expression and voice as she read the messages from her, that Clarke’s personality and warmth and playfulness came out in her punctuations and smileys and quick comebacks. And while they only text a few times a day, Lexa could feel that they had developed a kind of rhythm and that Clarke had carved a growing presence into her consciousness. 

She pushed open the door of the café on Thursday with equal amounts of anticipation and excitement. She had made sure to arrive before Clark, knowing that she could get paged back to the hospital at any time. When Clarke walked in ten minutes later Lexa stood to greet her, and couldn’t suppress a faint blush when soft lips pressed against her cheek.   
Conversation followed as easily as on their date, catching up on work first before falling into their usual casual back and forth as their food arrived.

“What time do you have to be back,” asked Clark, glancing down at her watch.

“I’ve cleared my schedule for the afternoon so whenever really,” shrugged Lexa. “You?”

“I can take another hour or so, unless my pager goes off. So when do I get to bring you on our next date?”

Lexa quirked her eyebrow, amused. “I believe it’s my turn to bring you out Clarke.”

“What?” asked Clarke, confusion crinkling her features. “You organised the first one. A great first one I might add.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere Clarke. I organised the first one, you invited me to lunch, we’re even.”

“Pfft!” scoffed Clark, sitting back in her chair and folding her arms. “There’s no way this counts as my date Lexa, this is just like a - a filler, a holding point until we get a chance for a proper one.”

“Nope,” said Lexa, shaking her head and trying to bite back a grin. “You asked me to lunch, you picked the restaurant. Today is date number two and I get the third. It’s only fair Clarke.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to protest. There was a moment of silence before she closed it again, smoothed her features and leant forward, elbows on the table and a glint in her eye. “Fine.”

“Fine?” Lexa hadn’t expected Clarke to give up so easily. 

“Fine,” repeated Clarke. “If today counts as my date then you have to come for dinner. Tonight. At my house. A proper date.”

Lexa did grin at that, pushing forward on her chair to mirror Clarke’s pose. “What about Octavia?” she asked, eyes locked firmly with Clarke’s. 

“She can stay with Lincoln tonight.”

“What about Anya?” 

“What about her?” asked Clarke. 

“What if she sees me, won’t that kind of give us away?”

Clarke’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Lexa,” she said softly, hand reaching forward to cover Lexa’s own, “when I suggested that keep this quiet I didn’t mean - I just thought that we could do without a thousands questions and advice before our first date. I was already nervous enough without needing to go over every detail with Octavia. But I think that there’s something here, between us, and it’s more than a fleeting or once off thing.”

“I think so too,” replied Lexa, voice gentle. 

Clarke smiled warmly at that. “Then I don’t have any desire to keep this secret. And if it all falls to shit then I think we have enough maturity to keep things civil and move on,” she added with a wink. “But if you want to for a while longer that’s fine with me too.”

Lexa could feel affection blooming in her chest as she watched Clarke, who was now watching her calmly. She wondered, not for the first time that week, how she had managed to get so lucky. Lucky that Clarke moved in next door to Anya. Lucky Lincoln had started dating Octavia. Lucky that Clarke saw something worth seeing in her. Lucky that Clarke was Clarke - kind and soft and funny and charming and wonderful. Before she could reply however Clarke broke eye contact, something over Lexa’s shoulder catching her eye. 

“Oh, crap,” she groaned. And then, looking back at Lexa, “sorry about this."And before Lexa had a chance to voice her confusion Clarke’s chair was scraping along the floor and she was standing, embracing a woman who approached from behind Lexa. 

“I thought you were off today honey?” said the woman, “your name wasn’t on the board.”

“Yeah I, uhm, I owed Wells a couple of shifts,” mumble Clarke, and Lexa thought she saw a faint blush on her cheeks. “Mom this Lexa,”she added, gesturing to Lexa who stood too, smiling politely. “She’s, ahm - we’re -”

“Dating,” said Lexa. “Newly dating. It’s a pleasure to meet you Dr. Griffin,” she added, holding out a hand to the woman who took it smoothly.

“Call me Abby. It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Lexa. I can’t say that my daughter has told me anything about you, but then again she only she’s me every day at work.” She offered a pointed stare to Clarke who merely shrugged, grinning widely. A voice called her name from behind the counter at the front of the shop. 

“That’s me,” she said. “I’m only grabbing takeaway, apologies for interrupting. I hope to see you again soon Lexa. Clarke, swing by my office later if you get a chance.”

The two took their seats again when Abby left, Clarke’s splitting grin still firmly present.

“What?” asked Lexa, somewhat warily.

“What?” replied Clarke. 

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“No reason,” said Clarke, picking up her fork again and resuming with her lunch. A soft pause, then, “so, dating huh?”

Lexa froze ever so briefly before shrugging nonchalantly and taking a sip of her water. “Newly dating,” she corrects, attempting to sound nonchalant. “As in the verb, to go on dates.” Dork. 

“So is that a yes for dinner tonight then?” 

“That’s a yes, Clarke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait, hope you still enjoy! The next chapter nearly done too


	12. Chapter 12

Come five o’clock Clarke was thanking whatever divine kindness had her out the doors of the hospital on time. Lexa was arriving at seven thirty, giving her just long enough to swing by the grocery store, get home, get ready and start cooking. By the time she turned the key in her front door and dropped the shopping on the kitchen counter the clock above the door read six. She hurried toward her bedroom, unbuttoning her shirt and kicking off her shoes as she went, grabbing a towel from the clean laundry basket as she passed. 

“So are you going to tell me who this mystery date is with? Seeing as you’re kicking me out of my own home for the evening.”

She looked up to see Octavia leaning against her doorframe, arms folded and a knowing grin on her face. 

“Oh come on, you were going to stay at Lincoln’s anyway,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “It’s hardly kicking you out.”

“Actually he was going to come here. I think his sister deserves a break from hearing us going at it.”

“So you thought you’d share it with me instead?” asked Clarke. “I’m honoured.” She turned to her back to Octavia half to pull out clean clothes and half to hide her face for what she said next. “Anyway, Lexa won’t be home tonight.”

“How do you know that?” 

“Because she’ll be here. My ‘mystery date’ is with Lexa.” Clarke tried to keep the smugness out of her voice but she just couldn’t stop the goofy smile. There was a moment of silence and then- 

“WHAT?!” 

The roar was loud enough to shock Clarke into turning around, just in time to see a blurry Octavia bound across the room and over the bed to yank her down onto it, jump on top of her and pin her arms to the mattress.

“Octavia!” gasped Clarke. 

“You have a date with Lexa? What the fuck Clarke!”

“How are you so fucking quick?”

“Explain!”

Clarke grinned again, something that Octavia must have taken as a sign that we wouldn’t try to escape because she released the vice grip around her wrists and sat up, knees either side of Clarke’s hips. Clarke pushed herself up so she was leaning back on her forearms, puffing away a piece of hair that had fallen across her face. 

“Lexa and I went on a date last weekend and I’m making dinner for her tonight.”

“How could you not tell me you went on a date with Lexa! How did this even happen?”

“I thought it would be better to keep our first date a little hush hush. I didn’t want to add any extra pressure, you’re going out with her brother, O. And her sister and nephew live next door. I was nervous enough without knowing that everyone else knew we were on a date.” 

“But it went well, you’re seeing her again tonight.” It wasn’t a question. 

“It was hands down the best date I’ve ever been on,” sighed Clarke, flopping back down onto the bed. “She’s amazing, O. We’ve had one proper date and I’m just so...in to her.”

“I did not see this coming,” said Octavia, and Clarke thought she did in fact look a little bit stunned. “I knew you got on well but I had no idea!”

“It all happened pretty quickly,” said Clarke. “We kissed after the barbeque and went out the next day. I met her for lunch today but we haven’t even had an official second date yet.”

Octavia rolled off her and lay on her side, head propped up on her right hand. “Have you slept with her?” she asked. 

“No.” 

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m happy.”

“You’re smitten. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Lexa’s - she special. Even if this doesn’t work out. She’s - she’s someone I want in my life, I think.” 

Octavia’s eyes softened as Clarke spoke. She really had never seen Clarke gush like this, or blush like this, or look so sincere about someone. “What time is she coming over?”

“Seven thirty.”

“What the fuck are you doing lying here with me!” yelped Octavia, jumping of the bed and pulling Clarke up with her. “Go get ready! You only have,” she looked at her watch as she pushed Clarke towards the en suite, “just over an hour! What are you making? I’ll start dinner while you shower.”

By the time Clarke walked into the kitchen, wet hair caught up in a bun and towel wrapped tightly around her, Octavia had unpacked the shopping, put the wine in the fridge and chopped all the vegetables. Clarke caught her in a grateful and slightly damp hug before falling into step beside her. Within twenty minutes dinner was ticking away on the stove and Clarke was sitting on her bed drying her hair as Octavia riffled through her wardrobe. They settled on a flowy, strappy coral summer dress. Casual and comfortable, hair down and natural and minimal makeup.

“So I guess Lincoln and I shouldn’t expect her back at all tonight,” smirked Octavia as she looked Clarke up and down. 

“Mind out of the gutter, O,” replied Clarke as she walked past her and into the kitchen. “I have no idea how tonight will end up, but I don’t plan on rushing anything.”

“So are you saying you don’t want to sleep with her tonight? Because I have eyes Clarke. Lexa is almost offensively hot.”

“I have eyes too,” replied Clarke, a slight shiver running through her body at the mere thought of it. “But I don’t want to push anything, or assume anything. Maybe she’s a third date or fifteenth date kind of girl. Hell, she could be a six month kind of girl or a ‘wait til marriage’ girl,” she added as she poured dressing over the salad. 

“Yeah right,” Octavia snorted. “Either way I’d appreciated if you kept her out of the apartment until at least 2am. Linc and I should be done by then,” she added with a wink, earning a grimace from Clarke. “She should be on her way over now so I’m going to take off.”

Clarke turned back to her. “Thanks for your help, I really do owe you one.” 

“All I ask is that you don’t have sex on the couch.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Lexa wouldn’t dream of it after I tell her what you and her brother have done to it.”

“Touche,” replied Octavia, fluffing up Clarke’s hair slightly with her fingers and plucking a stray eyelash off her cheek. 

“Make a wish,” she instructed, holding it up on her thumb. Clarke closed blew they eyelash away. “Did you wish that you’d get laid tonight?”

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” said Clarke, but her wolfish smile probably gave her away as Octavia threw her head back with a loud bark of laughter and pulled her into a quick hug.

“She’d be lucky to have you,” she said softly, squeezing her just a little bit tighter.


	13. Chapter 13

She allowed herself one more deep breath before pressing her hovering finger against the doorbell, forcing her hand to drop back down to her side rather than run through her hair for the tenth time since she got out of the car. She noticed that Octavia’s car wasn’t in the driveway and was glad not to have to run into the other girl. As much as she liked her, an over inquisitive Lincoln had been enough to deal with for one day without having to field his girlfriends questions too. 

The door swung open and Lexa had to bite her bottom lip for the simple purpose of stopping her jaw from hitting the damn floor. Clarke was, as always, stunning. She was barefoot, painted toenails and ankle bracelet the only adornments, and the familiarity of it felt skin-tingling domestic and comfortable. Long, sun kissed legs. A flowing coral dress that fell a few inches above her knee and stretched tightly across her chest. Wavy blonde tresses settled on freckled shoulders. Lexa wondered at how she managed to look so soft and welcoming and at the same time so unbelievably sexy. 

When she eventually lifted her gaze she blushed at the amused twinkle in Clarke’s eyes. Clearly her daze of appreciation had not gone unnoticed.   
“Hi,” grinned Clarke, looking like she was struggling to hold back a chuckle.

“Hi,” puffed out Lexa, willing herself not to crumple in embarrassment. “Ahm, these are for you,” she added, somewhat lamely, offering out the bouquet of flowers in her hand and the bottle of wine that was tucked under her arm.

“Thank you,” beamed Clarke, taking the flowers and stepping back to usher Lexa through the door. “They’re beautiful.” She leant forward to press a kiss against Lexa’s cheek and filling the air with a floral, woody smell that had Lexa swooning as Clarke shut the door behind them and led her into the kitchen. 

“I hope you like pasta,” said Clarke, her back to Lexa as filled the vase with water. “If you want to open the wine there’s two glasses on the table.”  
Lexa poured the wine, handing one glass to Clarke as she set the flowers down in the centre of the table. 

They caught up on each other’s day as Lexa watched Clarke move around the kitchen. A paradox of deep comfort and itchy anticipation. Clarke had the ability to make her feel totally relaxed, like they had been friends for years, and at the same like she was fifteen again on her first date. A nervous thrum beat steadily through her chest and belly as she swirled with contradictions - confident but shy, steady but clumsy in her thoughts. 

By the time Clarke set the food down and took her seat opposite Lexa the easy conversation had drawn Lexa out of her own head and she found it easier to focus solely on being with Clarke. Dinner was gorgeous and if her profuse compliments to the chef brought out a rosy tint across Clarke’s cheeks then that was just an added bonus. 

“It’s a shame though,” sighed Lexa, refilling their glasses. “Cooking has always been one of my ways to impress a date. That doesn’t really work when they cook like this themselves.”

“I guess you’ll just have to find other ways to impress me then,” teased Clarke. 

Lexa opted for another sip of wine, not quite trusting her voice in that moment and rolling her eyes at Clarke’s smug grin. When they had finished eating she insisted on helping wash up, ignoring Clarke’s protestations that ‘guests shouldn’t do the dishes’ and silencing her, albeit temporarily, with soft kiss against her cheek. 

They settled on the couch after that, two full glasses of wine on the coffee table in front of them and leaning gently into each other as Clarke flicked through movie suggestions on Netflix. They settled on some action movie that Lexa really couldn’t care less about and sat back to watch it, speaking every so often but otherwise focusing on the tv.

Well, in theory. In reality Lexa had barely watched more than ten consecutive seconds of the movie without glancing suropticiosly at the girl beside her. She was feeling a definite buzz at this point and knew that it was less to do with the three glasses of wine and more with the tension that was radiating through her body, palpable from her lungs to her fingertips and toes. Only when she became concerned that her breathing was louder that the sound of the the tv did she finally shift away from Clarke, trying to affect a stretch and resting her arm across Clarke’s shoulders.

There was a brief pause followed by an obnoxious snort of laughter.

“Smooth,” said Clarke, shoulders shaking in barely suppressed amusement. 

“Hey!” winced Lexa. “I’m out on a limb here.” She moved to pull her arm away in embarrassment but Clarke wrapped her fingers around her wrist, keeping her in place. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she chuckled, turning her body so she was facing Lexa. “I shouldn’t laugh, but really? Throwing the old ‘arm over the shoulders move’? I’m surprised you didn’t fake a yawn too.”

“And how would you have done it?” protested Lexa, indignantly, pride feeling slightly wounded. 

“Well for starters,” murmured Clarke, eyes dropping down a split second before she closed the gap between them and pressed her lips gently against Lexa’s. Before Lexa’s brain had the chance to catch up Clarke had swung her left leg around so that she was straddling her. Lexa huffed in surprise and as she felt Clarke’s smug grin against her mouth. 

“Okay, that was better than my way,” conceded Lexa, pulling back and inch so that their noses grazed and bringing a hand to rest on Clarke’s hips as Clarke’s fingers locked at the back of Lexa’s neck. Clarke just hummed in response, tilting her head to reconnect their lips. 

It started off slowly but Lexa was never going to keep her chill when such a beautiful girl was straddling her. They were breathing heavily now, heat pulsing between them as they pushed into each other. She swiped her tongue across Clarke’s bottom lip and moaned deeply when Clarke bit down in return before pushing her tongue against Lexa’s. 

Soon hands were roaming, brushing, fingers pressing into soft skin. Clarke’s hands in Lexa’s hair, resting against her cheek, her throat, her collarbone, moving down to squeeze her breasts. Lexa’s hands sliding up Clarke’s ribs, her back, up her thighs, fingernails scraping across smooth skin as Clarke’s dress shifted higher. 

Soon Clarke’s hips were rocking above her and Lexa dropped her hands to her ass, pulling her more firmly against her. When Clarke broke the kiss a moment later, panting for breath, Lexa’s lips found the smooth expanse of skin below her jaw. 

“Tell me,” gasped Clarke, legs tightening around Lexa’s waist as teeth bit gently down against her neck, “if we’re going to fast.”

Lexa pulled back just far enough that she could look at Clarke. “I have no issue with fast,” she said breathlessly. “Not if you don’t.”

“Thank fucking god,” murmured Clarke, surging forward again. 

It was hot and heavy and Lexa felt as though everywhere Clarke touched was on fire. Her hands were back on Clarke’s hips again, thumbs pressing into the crease between the top of her thighs and her hip with Clarke’s dress bunched up around her fists. When Clarke bit down on her bottom lip again, harder this time, Lexa couldn’t suppress the moan that ripped through her. She tugged on the hem of the dress and Clarke took the hint, leaning backwards to pull it up and over her head and throwing it to the floor.

Lexa swallowed as she took in the girl in front of her, on top of her. One hand trailed from Clarke’s chest, between soft, full breasts still covered by a lacy lilac bra, down her smooth, taught stomach - a wonderful expanse of creamy skin - and to a matching thong, eyes following the gentle path tread by slightly trembling fingertips. She looked back up. 

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, and an unmistakeable blush crept across Clarke’s already flushed skin. She licked her lips before reaching down to pull Lexa’s top off to join her dress. When their lips met again it was slower, softer, and still so intense that Lexa found it almost overwhelming. Hands moved less urgently but with more intent, mapping new and unexplored territory. 

And then Clarke was pulling away, standing up and holding a out hand. Lexa took it, rising from the couch and following Clarke down the hall and into her bedroom. She tugged Clarke back to her, kissing her deeply as she walked them backwards towards the bed. Clarke fell lightly onto the mattress, pushing her way to the centre of the bed, breasts bouncing and eliciting a low growl from Lexa and she crawled over her. 

Clarke lifted herself up to meet her lips again, one hand pressed against Lexa’s stomach and the other reaching around to unhook her bra with practiced ease. Her hands moved immediately to her now bare chest , moaning into the kiss as she pushed and pulled, gently rolling stiffened nipples is that Lexa gasping above her. 

Clarke’s bra was gone within seconds and Lexa shifted, dropping hot, open mouthed kisses down Clarke’s neck before running her tongue all the way back up and biting down on her her ear lobe. Clarke moaned loudly again, hips bucking and hands all over Lexa who was moving down, wrapping her lips around a pink nipple and sucking, swirling her tongue before grazing Clarke with her teeth. Fingernails raked down her back as Clarke squirmed underneath her. 

She moved her mouth to the other breast and slid her right hand slowly down Clarke’s belly, stopping at top of her underwear before scraping her fingernails back up the skin and squeezing her breast. She ran her hand down again, this time dipping below the waistband of Clarke’s thong.

“Fuck Clarke,” she groaned, running two fingers lightly through her folds. “You’re so wet.”

“Kiss me,” whimpered Clarke, pulling Lexa down into a sloppy, red hot kiss, one hand shooting out to grab the pillow under her head as Lexa pushed one finger inside her. 

Clarke pulled away from the kiss slightly as Lexa added another finger, pumping gently in and out of her, foreheads pressed together and Clarke’s hips finding rhythm with Lexa’s fingers. She made some kind of despairing grunt when Lexa pulled out of her, but only long enough to pull her underwear off completely and resume fucking her unimpeded. Lexa moved her attention to Clarke’s clit and teeth sank sharply into her shoulder as she moved her hand in small, quick circles. 

Clarke was loud. Not fake, pornstar loud. But beautifully loud in a way that left Lexa in no doubt that she was doing something right. It was a constant stream of appreciative gasps and encouraging hums and moans so sexy that Lexa had to focus harder than ever to keep a steady pace. Everything about Clarke like this was breathtaking. The way she rolled and bucked her hips. The way she threw her head back when Lexa curled her fingers just right. The way she sucked and kissed and bit from Lexa’s collarbone to her jaw. The way she couldn’t seem to decided if she wanted her eyes open or closed. The way her hands moved across Lexa’s body, alternating between soft strokes and pleasantly painful scratches. The way she seem to couldn’t stop kissing Lexa. 

“Fuck, just like that,” gasped Clarke. “I’m gonna cum.”

Lexa kept the same pressure on her clit, moving her fingers in quick, small circles until Clarke was unravelling beneath her, unintelligible moans and swears falling from her lips. She knew Clarke would start to get over sensitive so pushed two fingers back inside her, pumping her arm and pressing her fingertips against Clarke’s wall. A second powerful orgasm washed through her and Lexa felt wetness flood her palm as she slowed, carrying Clarke through. Finally she withdrew, Clarke’s chest heaving beneath her and blue eyes fluttering open. Lexa sucked her fingers into her mouth, moaning at the tangy, sweet taste of Clarke against her tongue as Clarke watched her, eyes wide, before pulling her back down into a searing kiss.


	14. Chapter 14

“That was incredible,” husked Clarke, pushing her hair off her face with one hand while the other draped heavily behind Lexa’s shoulders. Her heart was pounding in her chest and small ripples of pleasure continued to wash through her as she looked up at Lexa who was still lying above her, a hand at either side of Clarke’s head propping her up. 

“Glad I could find some other way to impress you,” said Lexa, unable to bite back her grin. “But I’m not done with you yet.” 

“And I haven’t even started with you,” replied Clarke, trailing her fingers down Lexa’s stomach and popping the button on her jeans. She slid her hand inside Lexa’s underwear and had to clench her thighs at what she found there. Lexa was dripping. 

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” she murmured as she stroked two fingers along her, Lexa’s eyes drooping in pleasure. She removed her hand and pushed Lexa gently to the right until her back hit the mattress, then shifted to her knees so that she could pull jeans and underwear down long, brown legs. Clarke allowed herself a brief moment to take in the girl beneath her, naked and open, looking back at her with dark eyes and blown pupils. She surged forward to reclaim kiss-swollen lips. Tongues slid softly against each other as her fingers slipped down between Lexa’s legs again, gathering the wetness there and dragging it up to her clit. 

Everything felt heavier now, slower and deeper as they continued kissing, soft whimpers falling from Lexa as Clarke rolled across her clit. Clarke hooked her left leg inside Lexa’s right, encouraging her to spread herself wider. Lexa obliged immediately, hips starting to move, mimicking the circular motion of Clarke’s wrist. Clarke increased the speed and pressure ever so lightly and one of Lexa’s hands dropped to bed, clenching the sheets in a tight fist. 

When she could feel Lexa’s muscles starting to strain beneath her she dropped her fingers lower, teasing her entrance for a few moments before pushing two fingers into her. Lexa arched her back at the sensation, lips finally breaking away as she pushed her head back into the pillow beneath her. Clarke’s mouth found purchase on her throat, tongue gliding up the long expanse of skin before sucking on her pulse point. She waited, allowing Lexa to adjust to her fingers and savouring the new feeling of Lexa wrapped tightly, hotly around her. After a few seconds she withdrew her full length before sliding back into her, Lexa’s wetness allowing her to move easily. 

When her fingertips finally pressed against the the rough part of Lexa’s wall the moan of ‘oh fuck, Clarke,’ had her seeing stars. From there she alternated between shallow quick thrusts and bending her fingers against that spot that drew such sinful expletives from that beautiful mouth. Lexa was thrusting against her hand now and Clarke knew that she was nearly there. She pulled her fingers out again, swallowing Lexa’s strangled whimper with a quick kiss before moving down the length of her body and pushing her knees up slightly before settling between them, Lexa’s eyes tracking her the whole time. 

With one long, firm lick through her Lexa’s hand was buried tightly in Clarke’s hair, not pulling so much as holding on for dear life. Clarke pushed her tongue into her, moaning at the sweet, tangy taste that filled her mouth. She flicked against her entrance over and over before wrapping her lips around Lexa’s clit and earning herself throaty cry and a sharp pull of her hair. Clarke was done with working her up. She wanted to see her break, to watch her come undone beneath her, wracked and wrought with pleasure.   
She set a steady pace against Lexa’s clit with her tongue while her right hand came to rest on her belly and her left hand pushed between her legs, pumping two fingers rapidly into Lexa and massaging firmly against her front wall with every other thrust. 

“Fuck - Clarke, keep - fuck, I’m going to - fuck,” both hands now wrapped in blonde hair. She massaged her tongue firmly against her before sucking softly, running the tip of her tongue across her clit as she did so. By now Lexa was alternating between pushing herself into Clarke’s mouth and sinking her hips back into the bed, Clarke’s tongue chasing her the whole time. 

When she finally broke a hymn of long, breathless moans fell from Lexa’s lips punctuated with softly chanted curses. Her thighs tightened around Clarke’s ears as her back bowed off the bed in pleasure, her body rising upward and hands falling to pull desperately at the sheets. Clarke continued her ministrations, pressing harder against Lexa’s front wall and moaning against her clit as she felt her tightened and flutter around her fingers. Lexa came for what felt like minutes and when she eventually jerked her hips out of Clarke’s reach with a sensitive whimper the muscles in her legs and abdomen were quivering, her skin was glistening and her chest was heaving. And Clarke was painfully, overwhelmingly, consumingly turned on. 

“Holy shit,” panted Lexa, running her hands through her own hair as Clarke dropped soft kisses on the inside of her thighs. “You’re fucking amazing.” She reached for Clarke’s hand, urging her back on top of her before pulling her down into a hungry, filthy kiss. 

Clarke was so lost in the feeling of Lexa’s teeth biting down gently on her lower lip, the feeling of Lexa’s tongue sliding against her own, that she didn’t notice the feeling of Lexa’s hand moving between her legs until two fingers swiped against her. They both broke the kiss, foreheads pressing together as they gasped at the proof of just how turned on Clarke was. 

She felt Lexa move beneath her, wiggling down the bed slightly while hooking her hands gently behind Clarke’s thighs, and it took her a few moments for her to catch on. At this point she was too aroused to think straight, and barely registered moving so that her hands were on the headboard and her knees either side of Lexa’s head. 

And then Lexa’s mouth was on her again, parting her in one, long swipe of ther tongue and Clarke’s body buckled at the flood of pleasure that overtook her. When the tip of Lexa’s tongue pushed against her entrance her legs began to shake and a guttural moan ripped from her throat. 

“Fuck, Lexa,” she moaned, barely coherent by now. “Jesus, fuck, just like that.” 

It felt like Lexa’s tongue was fused to her clit, never breaking contact, beating a rhythm that pulsed through her belly, her chest, her fingertips. And then two long, wonderful fingers slid inside her and Clarke cried out at the feeling of being stretched and filled by the beautiful woman beneath her. 

Lexa’s fingers pressed deeply into her front wall as she sucked Clarke’s clit into her mouth and Clarke began bucking above her as pressure built quickly in her belly. She came hard and fast, feeling wetness flood from her as she pined Lexa to the bed. She moaned and cursed and forgot to breath as Lexa hummed encouragingly against her. 

It took her a few moments before she could compose herself enough to lift off Lexa, dropping to her side as she fought to regain her breath and calm her shaking limbs.   
She felt suddenly nervous. She’d never had sex for the first time with someone that was anything quite like that. Hot and wild and uncontrolled. LIfe changing and body breaking. There had been no reservations at the time, no coyness. And now that she was sated and exhausted and back in control of her brain she could feel the self consciousness seeping in. That was a lot of yourself to give some you weren’t even dating.

And then Lexa was wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her back in for a soft, soothing kiss, a hand running gently up and down her back and those doubts washed away as quickly as they had come.


End file.
